


mister underwear model

by vonseal



Series: mister underwear model [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Comedy, M/M, Model Jinwoo, Romance, and infatuated dongmin, other relationships will be updated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vonseal/pseuds/vonseal
Summary: Dongmin's first true love is a little unconventional, but tons of people fall in love with extremely attractive underwear models, don't they?





	1. meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parkjinchu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a gift for my lovely [@parkjinchu](http://www.parkjinchu.tumblr.com)! it's a little late bc i was never informed of her birthday (and if i was, im an idiot and forgot it), but she deserves all the jincha in the world!
> 
> also, yes, this is a chaptered fic bc i like to torture myself.

Dongmin was in love with a beautiful, beautiful man.

He saw this man every single day. He would smile before heading into work, sometimes blow a little kiss if no one was watching, and whisper, “Good morning,” to him. He was the reason Dongmin woke up and the reason Dongmin appreciated life.

Dongmin just didn't know his name.

It was a tragic reality, honestly, to be in love with someone who had no idea he existed. It was a pitiful reality, honestly, to be in love with a man who had never once moved from his position.

He was just an image on the busy streets of Seoul.

Literally. An image.

They put a new billboard up right across from Dongmin's job. He watched the workers straighten out the large image they were using, watched with fascination and interest, and when they finally moved from their positions to reveal the advertisement, he was _in love_.

It was some catchy sign for underwear. They must have chosen the most amazing person they could possibly find, because Dongmin ordered some of their underwear the very day the advertisement had been shown. He didn't care for the way it felt, but wearing it made him feel all the closer to Mr. Underwear Model himself.

“I'm pathetic,” he mumbled to the small fish bowl at his receptionist desk. He noticed a woman in the waiting room glance at him, but he figured his existence was already ridiculous enough, so he paid no heed to her concerned stares. “Why am I so pathetic, Mr. Gold?”

His goldfish didn't care, but goldfishes never do.

It hadn't been a natural infatuation at all. He hadn't steadily grown to love Underwear Model (as he was affectionately called in Dongmin's mind). Instead, it had been sudden, quick, and it made Dongmin reject two dates simply because he wanted to _at least_ find out more about Underwear Model. He wanted to know what Underwear Model's favorite food was, if Underwear Model had a nice apartment, if Underwear Model was also, coincidentally, into men.

Maybe it was pitiful and tragic to lust and fawn over some half-naked man on a billboard outside of the vet's office, but Dongmin really couldn't help himself. How would anyone _not_ fall in love with him? He had silver hair that reminded Dongmin of starlight, toned abs and strong arms, and the sultry look he gave to his audience was enough to make anyone swoon.

Apparently, though, no one else seemed to give Underwear Model a second glance. Dongmin decided he was forced to suffer on his own.

Or, it would be on his own, if one of his coworkers hadn't caught wind of his obvious crush.

(Even if it had, shockingly, taken him weeks to figure it out.)

“Good morning, Dongmin!” Myungjun entered the practice rather cheerfully, as per the norm, smiling widely and waving at both Dongmin and the one lady sitting nearby. “Did you sleep well? Did you dream about your boyfriend today?”

Dongmin flushed and bit his lip. “He's not my boyfriend. And don't say it so loudly.”

“You sure act like he is. You turned down my roommate the other day for him.”

“I'm not interested in dating Binnie. He sleeps half the day away, and when he _does_ wake up, he eats all of your food.”

“Yeah. Don't you just love him?” Myungjun's lips turned up in a grin as he spoke of Bin, and Dongmin wrinkled his nose up in distaste. “And he has the best laugh and the best smile, I just don't understand why you're so intent on dating your underwear boyfriend when Binnie-”

“Why don't you date him, then?” Dongmin fussed. The lady nearby kept staring at him, and he felt a blush rise up to his cheeks.

In response, Myungjun gasped, a little too dramatically, but Dongmin could see the signs of discombobulation growing in him.

(He would have smirked and silently congratulated himself for managing to make Myungjun so flustered, but that would make him seem petty; which he definitely _was_ , but the customer waiting patiently needn't know that.)

“I'd never date my roommate. That's stupid. I didn't become his roommate so I could _date him_.” Myungjun quickly turned before Dongmin had the chance to say anything else and focused all of his attention on the lady nearby. “Are you here to pick up Suk?” he asked pleasantly, as if he hadn't just had the most awkward conversation ever with his receptionist.

Fortunately, that _did_ mean that at least Dongmin no longer had to deal with Myungjun. The vet gave him a wicked grin before heading off into one of the rooms, the lady following along behind him, and Dongmin slumped over in his seat. He knew he wouldn't hear the last of this from Myungjun. The older boy would probably offer to walk him home in order to bug and tease him about everything concerning Underwear Model. It was difficult to refuse Myungjun, too, because he usually forced himself into situations regardless of anyone's _actual_ wishes and desires.

Dongmin sometimes regretted taking this job. Even if he loved the animals and he loved the line of work in general, Myungjun was really growing to be a hassle.

Still, he would endure Myungjun's attitude if it meant he could take his lunch break outside, as he did normally, back leaned up against the building as he stared over at Underwear Model.

He chewed on his kimchi thoughtfully, slowly, wondering just what his life would be like if Underwear Model could somehow crawl out of the billboard and come down to the sidewalk. He wondered if Underwear Model would join him for lunch. He only had one set of chopsticks. He wondered if Underwear Model would want to share those chopsticks. He wondered if they could feed each other. He wondered if-

“Dongmin!”

It definitely wasn't the voice of Underwear Model.

(Not that he knew, certainly not. He just assumed that Underwear Model would have a deep, sexy voice, maybe something sultry and flirty, maybe something not so familiar.)

He tore his eyes away from the advertisement to look down the street. Bin was jogging towards him, waving lightly as he dodged the afternoon traffic of people walking past. “Hey, Dongmin!” He settled to a stop by Dongmin's seated body, a goofy smile on his face. “I still don't get why you sit out here so often. It's a little busy near the street, isn't it?”

Dongmin hadn't ever noticed.

(He only noticed one person, and that was Underwear Model.)

“It's away from Myungjun, so that's a bonus,” Dongmin responded instead, and he earned himself a light bout of laughter before Bin took a seat beside him, minding his feet to ensure they didn't stretch out too far and trip anyone walking nearby. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

Bin showed off a small bag in his hands. “Hyung forgot his lunch again.”

Myungjun always forgot his lunch, Dongmin suddenly realized, and Bin always brought it.

Myungjun was an idiot.

“Shouldn't you go give it to him, then? He's inside.”

“Aw, come on!” Bin giggled and nudged Dongmin's shoulder. “I think I deserve to spend some time with my best friend first, don't you? Even if he's just fawning after an underwear model.”

Dongmin blushed heavily and ducked his face down. “I am _not!_ ” he argued. “I just so happened to be looking at that brand of underwear.”

“Myungjun's told me everything.” Bin was still smiling, looking pleased to have this certain blackmail information on Dongmin. Curse Bin _and_ Myungjun. “Don't worry, though. I won't tell. I mean, no one would believe me anyway if I mentioned that logical and smart and quiet Lee Dongmin had a massive crush on this underwear model he's never met before in his life.” He slung an arm around Dongmin and sighed. “You're sure not as smart and put together as people think.”

Dongmin shoved him. “I'm smart!” he retorted. “I'm smart enough to understand that I'll never have _him_ as my boyfriend.”

“Then why do you sit out here and look at him for an hour?”

It was a good question, and Dongmin didn't have a good answer.

“You need to find someone else, Dongmin. I mean, sure, that guy _is_ really attractive, but he probably lives hours away and works for some modeling company, and he might even be a complete jerk. And I don't want my best friend to fall in love with a jerk, do you hear me?”

Dongmin snorted, making certain now to not look up at the image of Underwear Model. He already knew that he was definitely going to continue to swoon over the image of Underwear Model. He already knew that he wasn't going to get the man out of his mind so easily. However, while around the people he was close with, perhaps he could play as if he was a normal guy who didn't fall in love with someone on an advertisement. He was smart enough to do _that_ , wasn't he?

“I hear you,” he responded. “And I'll listen. Unless the model walks right through my door and comes into my arms, I won't think about him anymore.”

Bin was quiet for a second before patting Dongmin's back. “Well, I know that's a complete lie, but at _least_ act like it around Myungjun. He doesn't need more fuel to make your life miserable.”

“Especially after he tried to set us up on a date,” Dongmin mumbled.

Oddly enough, Bin looked confused at that. “He tried to what?”

Dongmin glanced over at him and furrowed his eyebrows. “He...I thought he did. He told me multiple times that _we_ needed to go out; you and me. I thought he might have told you, too.”

“Well, he should have. You need _two_ people for a date.” Bin sighed loudly and leaned his head up against the brick building. His phone vibrated, and Dongmin peered over to see Myungjun's name light up. “Speak of the devil,” Bin murmured. “He's probably whining about his lunch. I'll talk to you later, Dongmin.”

If it was much later, Dongmin would have plenty of time to gear himself up and act like he was over Underwear Model. Of course, Bin could see right through him and would easily be able to figure out the truth behind the matter, but as long as his acting was good, Myungjun would probably leave him alone over it.

So he told himself he wasn't in love with Underwear Model. He told himself that it had been a slight infatuation, a little crush, and he could easily get rid of it. He told himself that Underwear Model probably had flaws, too, that had been covered up with the lighting and the angle and an intense bout of photo editing.

(And even if that _was_ true, Dongmin's inner thoughts and emotions felt that Underwear Model's flaws would probably make him even more perfect than he already was.)

The rest of the day went by slowly. They had a few appointments, and so Myungjun was occupied with animals for the majority of their time, but when it slowed down as the clock neared five, Dongmin wasn't so lucky.

“How did lunch go with your _boyfriend?_ ” Myungjun teased, wiggling his eyebrows and gesturing outside.

Dongmin made it a point not to look over. “I don't know. How did lunch go with _yours?_ ”

Fortunately, a few days ago, Dongmin had discovered Myungjun's weak point: Bin. He wasn't sure why _Bin_ , of all people, was Myungjun's weak point, and he wasn't sure why Myungjun would puff up like a scared cat, but it made it easier to avoid Myungjun's relentless torture if he had his own card to play against him.

“Bin isn't my boyfriend, and it's stupid to refer to him as such.”

“Yeah? Well, that model isn't _my_ boyfriend, and it's stupid to-”

“You'd _like_ him to be your boyfriend, wouldn't you?”

“As much as you'd like Bin to be _your_ boyfriend.”

Myungjun glowered. “Which is zero percent. I would like that _zero percent_.”

“Then the feeling here is mutual.”

He had to congratulate himself; he actually managed to shut Myungjun up. Or, at least, he managed to shut Myungjun up about _that_ , because instantly the man started mumbling about taking care of something in the other rooms, and Dongmin could hear his rambling down the hall.

He closed the schedule book and sighed. It wouldn't be as difficult as he thought it would be to avert Myungjun's attention away from his obvious crush, but it did send a little pang through his heart knowing that he was betraying Underwear Model.

When he left that day, he let Myungjun walk ahead, and then turned to the Underwear Model and gave a quick, short bow. “Sorry,” he apologized in a whisper. “I just need to seem like a normal person.”

Underwear Model didn't speak, because Underwear Model was just an image on the billboard.

It sucked. Myungjun, for all his obnoxious speech and ridiculous antics, had someone to go home to. And maybe Bin was absolutely oblivious to how high on a pedestal Myungjun put him, but they still got along so well and they at _least_ could eat dinner and converse and watch television. Dongmin only had himself to eat with, and there was no one there to fight over the remote with him.

(He had contemplated taking a picture of the Underwear Model's billboard and sticking it in his living room, but he figured he was already pathetic enough and he needn't make himself seem even more like a moron.)

Maybe Bin was right, though. Maybe he needed to stop thinking so much of Underwear Model and find himself someone real and attainable. It was stupid to fall in love with someone who would never know of his existence. There were real people out there, real people who would love and cherish him and he would do the same back.

And so the next morning, he didn't stop to say hello to Underwear Model. He pretended that he was just like everyone else on the streets, passing by with little regard to the extremely attractive man showing off an equally attractive body.

(He tried to convince himself that Underwear Model was probably straight, regardless, probably dating girls and enjoying parties and drinking himself to a stupor; any stereotype about models, he tried to apply to Underwear Model. And Dongmin was into men and cuddling and quiet nights in with a movie playing, and they just wouldn't be compatible.)

Myungjun arrived later, as per the norm, straightening out his white jacket and smiling just as brightly. “Good morning, Dongmin!” he greeted.

The first sentence out of his mouth wasn't about Underwear Model. Dongmin was impressed.

(But he figured that Myungjun _knew_ Dongmin would counter using Bin. Myungjun was smart to avoid that.)

“Morning, Hyung.”

“What's on my schedule for today?”

Dongmin booted up his computer, and while waiting for that to load, he began to flip through the schedule book. “Um...you have two appointments before noon. A new guy, Park Jinwoo, with his lab for a checkup, and Lee Eunji has another cat she found, so she's bringing it in to get it tested and up to date on shots.”

“Eunji and her cats.” Myungjun snorted. “Dongmin, don't _you_ ever become a cat grandma like she is, alright? You can have _one_ cat, but I'm going to draw the line there.” He gently tapped on the small fish bowl on Dongmin's desk. “And try and find something bigger for Mr. Gold here, okay? Even fish need room to play and grow.”

And that was the conversation. Dongmin smiled softly to himself as he filled in his timesheet. He had discovered Myungjun's major weakness, and he would definitely use it against him if Myungjun put even a _toe_ out of line again.

To pass the time until the first appointment, Dongmin messed around on the computer. He fought the urge to look up underwear models for a specific underwear brand; he had tried that before, anyway, and the results always came up short. Instead, he read about various animal ailments, trying to further expand his horizons and become more acquainted with animals in general. Myungjun was definitely the animal nerd out of the two of them, but Dongmin didn't want to be a receptionist for his entire life. It would be fun, perhaps, to try being a vet assistant of some sorts. Was there such thing as an animal nurse? He could accompany Myungjun in healing animals and taking care of them.

So if he couldn't find love, perhaps getting a small promotion would be good enough for him.

After a while, Dongmin heard the small bell above the front door ring, sign of a guest entering. He looked up from his computer, the usual smile on his face, but it completely faltered when he saw the man in front of him.

“Hi!” His voice was a little rough, a little deep, but brighter than Dongmin could ever imagine. “I'm here with my lab. I made an appointment earlier in the week, so I might have talked to you, but I'm Park Jin-”

“Underwear Model?”

The words came out before Dongmin could stop them. He could see Underwear Model's eyebrows rise up, eyes widening as he blinked owlishly at Dongmin. He hadn't _meant_ to say that, but it was difficult to control his own words when his dream man was standing right in front of him. Obviously he had clothes on this time, so Dongmin (unfortunately) couldn't make out any abs or toned muscles, but he was dressed warmly in a sweater to counter the cool, fall weather, and his hair was hidden underneath a snapback, pushed on backwards and revealing more of his forehead than the image outside the vet practice even had.

“Underwear...model?” Jinwoo repeated. “Oh, that...that advertisement? You recognized me? Really?” A smile came to his face, a giddy little grin, and Dongmin's heart skipped a beat.

“I...y-yeah, your, um, your advertisement is right out...right outside, so I figured-”

“This has never happened before, honestly. I can't believe – god, my mom would _kill me_ if she knew my underwear photo was the one people noticed.”

“Not most people,” Dongmin clarified. “Just me.”

And _that_ was the wrong thing to say. He flushed heavily and knocked over a small mug of pens in his attempt to busy himself with grabbing Jinwoo's paperwork, but Jinwoo just laughed, cute little bouts of breath that escaped his mouth and made his eyes crinkle upwards.

Dongmin was stuck now; there was no way he could ever forget about Underwear Model at this point.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GO WISH [@parkjinchu](http://www.parkjinchu.tumblr.com) A BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! SHE'S THE BEST!!! 
> 
> i'm going to update shifter next, i promise. i already have a lot of it written it. sorry for the delay on that one, i got a bout of writer's block concerning the next chapter, but i think i've got that covered!
> 
> send me dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com).


	2. murmur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> awkward dongmin, giggly jinwoo, and evil myungjun. aka, astro's hyung line.

Dongmin had never considered himself to be a _graceful_ or _composed_ person.

Neither did Dongmin's friends.

According to Myungjun once, after Dongmin tripped and spilled his drink all over an inspector at the vet office, “You are the epitome of clumsiness and awkwardness and this is why you don't have a girlfriend.”

And, honestly, Dongmin really couldn't refute it. He understood and accepted his shortcomings, and as such, he simply made more of an effort to stay away from people he _knew_ he would embarrass himself in front of.

According to Myungjun, “I hope you stay away from the entire human population, then.”

But that obviously wasn't the case. Working as a receptionist had been safe enough, but when his dream man was sitting across from him, patiently waiting for his big Labrador dog to be seen by Myungjun, Dongmin could already feel his awkward personality longing to be set free in order to cause him trouble.

Well, he wouldn't allow it! He would squash it down, denying it a chance to produce its ugly head. Even if it meant he would stay silent in front of Jinwoo, at least it entailed less of a chance of acting like an idiot.

He could handle being invisible if Jinwoo would leave with good, or even neutral, thoughts about him.

Jinwoo, though, didn't seem to understand Dongmin's stance at the moment, because after a few minutes of humming quietly to himself, he suddenly asked, “How long have you worked here?”

Dongmin looked up from his computer, feeling a little flustered. “Me?”

Jinwoo nodded his head in confirmation.

“Um...about a year or two. I think it's been two.” He was determined to leave it at that, and so he stared intently at his computer screen. His pose should have been a clear sign that he was uninterested to speak with Jinwoo – but, then again, maybe Jinwoo wasn't aware of social norms like that.

“What got you into this business?”

“I'm a-a _receptionist_ ,” Dongmin clarified. “It's not exactly a career.”

“Well, you usually have to have some sort of experience to work in a vet's office, even if you are just at the front desk.” Jinwoo gave him a small smile. His eyes turned up into crescents when he smiled. Dongmin found the expression very different from the sultry look he gave on the advertisement.

(It was not unwelcome at all, though.)

“How would you know that?”

Jinwoo laughed and gave his dog's head a small pat. “I've wanted to work at a vet's office ever since I was young. I love dogs, and I figured being a vet meant I could hang out with dogs all day long!”

“And you became a model instead?”

The words shot out of Dongmin's mouth before he could truly think through them, and while Jinwoo giggled, he instantly wished to take it all back. That wasn't the sort of thing to say to a guy he had a crush on, was it? He shouldn't be dismissing Jinwoo's original dream, nor should he be belittling Jinwoo's current job.

Besides, without Jinwoo being a model, who else would Dongmin stare at during his breaks?

Jinwoo was still grinning. “I did. I was studying to become a vet originally, but someone found my social media accounts and invited me to try my hand at modeling. It paid well and I was good at it, so I guess I gave up on being a vet.”

“Do you still want to?”

“Nah.” Jinwoo shook his head. “I'm happy enough as it is. I decided that I just like taking care of _my_ dog. Animals are a lot of responsibility, don't you think?”

Dongmin shrugged in agreement; slight agreement, but it wasn't as if he would _dis_ agree with Jinwoo, a famous underwear model. No, Jinwoo could probably ask Dongmin if he wanted to go land a space shuttle on the sun, and Dongmin would agree to do so.

(He could die with a cute underwear model – if that wasn't living the dream, Dongmin didn't know what was.)

“So you'll continue to be a model?”

“As long as I can. I might go back to school soon, just to make my mom proud of me.” He looked a little sheepish. “She, uh, she wasn't very supportive of my choice to go into modeling instead of finishing up my education. I think she's accepted it at this point, though. She has a few magazine clippings of me hanging up on her fridge.”

Dongmin blinked, trying to imagine Jinwoo's mother hanging up pictures of her underwear-model son. He couldn't see it. “Magazine...?” He pointed out at the window, where the billboard bared its beautiful, _beautiful_ face, and Jinwoo glanced over at it. A light blush spread across his cheeks.

“N-No! No, not, um, not my underwear pictures. She knows about those, but, uh...she doesn't like talking about that.” Jinwoo seemed a little nervous now, and he laughed awkwardly.

(Dongmin _knew_ all about awkward laughter; he was the king of awkward laughter.)

“So you've modeled for other things?”

“Yeah. It started with just clothes. Suits and whatnot, I'd model those. I started modeling other stuff, though. Some of the photoshoots have been really weird and not really my style, and others have actually been a lot more relaxing.”

Dongmin stared at him for a second before clearing his throat. He filtered his mind this time; he told himself _not_ to ask what he truly wanted to.

And, yet, curiosity got the better of him.

“Which category does the underwear modeling fall under? Not your style, or more relaxing?”

It was yet another question that most people should take offense to. After all, who _really_ discussed underwear modeling in such a public setting? It was taboo, probably; at the very least, it was highly inappropriate, even more so because Dongmin was still on the clock. He wouldn't have blamed Jinwoo if he had walked out the door.

But Jinwoo didn't seem shocked or deterred by Dongmin's forward question. Instead, he hummed thoughtfully and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. “Let's _see_. It _was_ different. It was the first time I had to do a more sexual type of advertisement. But I felt confident doing it, so I think it was a lot more relaxed. In any case, the photographers and assistants on the scene kept cracking jokes and making sure I didn't feel too awkward, so I just learned to have fun with it. It wasn't until we were finished and I was looking over the shots that I wondered just what all of my friends and my _mother_ would think of it.”

Dongmin could only imagine himself in that position. Would he so willingly display his body for the world to see? Would he wear naught but a pair of tight underwear to be placed up on a large sign in the middle of a busy street?

No. _Definitely_ no. Jinwoo was brave and courageous, and that made him all the more desirable.

“That makes sense,” Dongmin mumbled, and he bit his lip as he glanced back over at the advertisement. Jinwoo was extremely attractive, both on the sign and in person, but there were so many blaring differences. The one that stuck out the most, however, was the weird personality change. His _come hither_ bedroom eyes that stared daily into Dongmin's soul now had to compete with the cute eye-smile that Jinwoo seemed to keep giving him, the toothy grin that would pop up and the little head tilts he gave whenever Dongmin started to speak.

So he wasn't _just_ in love with an advertisement. It wasn't just a flirty, masculine Jinwoo that got Dongmin's heart racing. Instead, it was the (shorter than he thought) man sitting in front of him, cooing in a baby voice to his large dog and occasionally kicking at his own feet as he awaited the arrival of the vet.

And, speaking of, Dongmin realized he had other problems on his hand than his infatuation with a model.

Myungjun.

Myungjun would come out, take one look at Jinwoo, and _know_ who he was. After all, there weren't too many people in or around Seoul with bleached hair and earrings and the most endearing personality on the planet.

And, after all, there weren't too many people in or around Seoul that Dongmin found himself falling madly in love with. Myungjun would know. Myungjun _always_ knew, somehow – behind that bright and innocent facade of his, he was dangerous and cunning and he would try to pull something. Dongmin had no doubts about that.

Could he convince Jinwoo to perhaps try a new vet? Maybe he could spread lies and false rumors and pretend he was being held hostage and that Myungjun was actually some sort of mastermind criminal who went around posing as a vet so he could instead murder innocent animals.

That could work. He took a theater class once, so he had to muster all of his teachings to open his mouth and start, “This vet is-”

He didn't get very far. He figured it was destiny trying to destroy his life that shut him up.

And by _destiny trying to destroy his life_ , he meant Myungjun. It was Myungjun that shut him up.

“Hey, Dongmin, is Park Jinwoo – oh!” Myungjun had walked down the hallway when Dongmin had been caught up in his own thoughts, a clipboard in his hand and his eyes staring down at his information. However, once he looked up, he seemed to have recognized the new face in the waiting room.

As Dongmin watched in fear, a large grin began to overtake Myungjun's expression.

“ _Park Jinwoo_ ,” he muttered.

“No!” Dongmin whispered, spinning in his chair to turn his back on Jinwoo. “Hyung, don't do this to me, _please-_ ”

Destiny was evil. Destiny had his own plans. Destiny was around to just make Dongmin's life absolutely miserable.

Jinwoo stood from his seat, clicking his tongue at his dog, who also stood up. “Here I am! I was just talking to your receptionist here- what's your name?”

“His name is Lee Dongmin,” Myungjun helpfully supplied, leaning up on Dongmin's desk. “And he's the angel of our office. Look at his face! Doesn't he look pure and beautiful? Very clean, like he's never had a single dirty thought in his entire life.” To be even _more_ of assistance, Myungjun spun Dongmin's chair right back around. Dongmin just prayed his blush wasn't too noticeable. “He definitely doesn't look at attractive people who go around shirtless and think a bunch of icky stuff. No! Not our Dongmin!”

Dongmin wanted to melt into the ground and disappear completely. He needed to quit this job. It wasn't doing anything for his blood pressure levels, that was for sure.

When Dongmin spared a glance over, Jinwoo just looked rather confused. “He _does_ seem angelic – um, but thanks for that introduction. Are you the vet?”

Myungjun scoffed and straightened up. It seemed his torture session was done for the day. “I am. If you want to just go into that first room, I'll confer with Dongmin on a few things and then I'll be ready to see you.”

Jinwoo nodded his head and led his dog to where Myungjun had pointed. He made sure to smile brightly at Dongmin on the way down. Dongmin still wished he was just a puddle of goo and not a living, sentient being who had just been outed as _possibly_ having less-than-clean thoughts about a certain underwear model.

(Dongmin had but one defense, and that was that Jinwoo made it very difficult to keep a pure mind when he posed _like that_.)

Once Myungjun seemed satisfied that Jinwoo wasn't staying behind or listening in, he smirked and tapped Dongmin's desk. “So,” he started.

“Myungjun, don't-”

“So Mister Underwear Model actually appeared in the flesh, didn't he?” Myungjun snickered. “And I bet his _flesh_ is what you like.”

“That's creepy, Hyung.”

“You're right. I need to up my game.” Myungjun clapped his hands together once. “What if I tell him his cute doggy has a diseases and he needs to come back every single week in order to have him checked out all the time. Would you be satisfied? You'd get to see him practically every single day, wouldn't you?”

Dongmin would really die if Myungjun did that, and he shook his head vehemently. Of course, though, Myungjun thrived on Dongmin's discomfort. “It's settled, then! I'll make up something-”

“If you do that,” Dongmin breathed, narrowing his eyes. “I will call Bin up _right now_ and inform him that all you want to do is get in his pants.”

It was a bold statement, one that might not even be true or completely accurate, but Dongmin had tossed safety and caution out of the window. If Myungjun was going to play dirty like this, then so be it, Dongmin would unveil his less-than-pure side.

As expected, too, Myungjun froze. His fingers gripped down on the edge of the desk, tightly, and his eyes suddenly widened. He looked unsure and hesitant.

“We-Well, sure, you can do that, but it'd be a complete lie, s-so it wouldn't even bother me one bit.”

“Okay.” And Dongmin picked up his cell phone.

Instantly, Myungjun's hand reached out and smacked it. The phone clattered to the desk and Dongmin glanced up at the older boy, who was tight-lipped and red in the face.

“Ah,” Dongmin mumbled. “So we're at an understanding?”

It wasn't often that he had the upper-hand over Myungjun. He needed to cherish this moment as often as possible. He also needed to still the erratic beating of his heart. Because he was a good child and a smart child and a _drama free_ child, he never really threatened people, especially not when those _people_ happened to be his boss. Still, in this case, he would stand his ground, and he didn't once break eye contact with Myungjun.

Finally, Myungjun stepped back from the front desk and gave a loud sigh. “Talk to Bin and I'll set loose the hounds on your ass, Lee Dongmin.”

“I won't say a word as long as you don't give Jinwoo a reason to come back.”

“Fine. Let him go just like that. It doesn't bother you that the man you've had a crush on for _months_ is right within your reach and you're just going to ignore him?”

Myungjun made it seem like a dumb decision, but Dongmin was going to stand by his wish to remain invisible. Jinwoo was probably straight. Or, maybe, Jinwoo already had someone he loved (he was definitely a catch, so Dongmin knew that was a solid possibility). Or, perhaps, Jinwoo wouldn't want to date some weirdo who stared at his underwear advertisement from afar.

Regardless, it had been a silly crush all along, and even if his feelings had intensified with Jinwoo actually _near_ him, that meant nothing. It was still a silly crush, a stupid infatuation, emotions that had gotten out of control as Dongmin allowed himself to get comfortable with the thought of Mister Underwear Model.

Jinwoo, as opposed to Mister Underwear Model, wasn't just a picture. Dongmin could deal with his imaginations, but when they became reality, he really wasn't sure what he ought to do.

And Myungjun was no help for his love life, so Dongmin answered him with a shrug of his shoulders. “It's not ignoring him. I'm treating him like I treat every single other client we have here. Simply because he's famous around this office for his poster-”

“Famous to _you_. I wouldn't have even cared about that billboard until I caught you bowing to it one morning.”

“Regardless, I'm not interested in pursuing anything with Jinwoo.”

Myungjun didn't look very convinced, despite how much effort Dongmin put into making himself sound believable. Then again, Myungjun was creepily intuitive, especially when it concerned Dongmin's contradictions.

“If you try anything, Hyung,” Dongmin whispered, deciding it best to drive his blackmail material home, “-if you say anything, I can easily call Bin.”

Myungjun gave a small _hmph_ before spinning suddenly and leaving Dongmin's side. He had seemed worked up and confused, which was just as well. It meant he probably wouldn't attempt anything when his own issues could be blown into the open.

(Though Dongmin had just made a lucky guess – it was gross to discover it was _true_ , but he was quite ready to use it against Myungjun in any way he possibly could.)

The next half hour passed by slowly. While Dongmin _was_ certain that Myungjun wouldn't blurt out Dongmin's dirty secret, his brain started placing doubts all around. Perhaps Myungjun wouldn't actually care about Dongmin's threats. Perhaps Myungjun had called Dongmin's bluff (because even Dongmin wasn't sure if he could go through with that). Perhaps Myungjun was just an idiot and spilled the beans without even realizing.

So many _perhaps_ 's floated about, each one worse than the other, and he hardly noticed when someone said his name.

“-Dongmin? Lee Dongmin?”

Dongmin jumped in his seat before hurriedly looking over.

“Underwear- Jinwoo!”

Jinwoo's lips turned upwards in a smile, and Dongmin gasped, covering his hands over his mouth. “I'm sorry!” his apology was muffled. “It just slipped out because I was thinking over what you – I mean, I was just trying to remember your- I'm-”

“It's fine. Really.” Jinwoo laughed and leaned up on the counter. “I think it's cute.”

He thought it was cute.

Dongmin really wished he had been dead. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to function after that, and so he just stammered out a response nervously. “I-It's...? I'm, um...I mean, I'll...I'll learn your, um, y-your name, I promise-”

“You'll be learning it quickly, then. It turns out my sweet Mocha has a heart murmur! The vet says I'll have to bring her in next week to ensure it hasn't gotten larger, and then he'll inform me of what steps we can take next if it _has_ gotten larger.”

Dongmin blinked before glancing down the hallway. Myungjun's head peeked out from the door, and he gave Dongmin the largest grin he could muster from behind Jinwoo's back.

“Screw Myungjun,” Dongmin whispered.

“Excuse me?” Jinwoo looked confused.

Dongmin was going to research how he could painlessly and quickly become a pile of goo, and also how he could develop the nerves to actually go through with his blackmail material.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really enjoying writing this story! it's so dorky and fun and jincha is a new challenge for me (my oneshot doesnt count)! i hope i can do it all justice, though, especially for [@parkjinchu](http://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu), who deserves everything perfect!
> 
> hit me up with them dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	3. mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door opened, and Dongmin was certain that God hated him. God was trying to murder him. God wanted Lee Dongmin to perish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rip lee dongmin

Blackmailing someone was far more difficult than Dongmin had assumed it would be.

It _should_ be simple. He had all the information he needed: he had Bin's phone number and Myungjun's little secret, and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together and spill the beans. Dongmin was nothing short of a genius. He always had high marks in all of his classes and studying was a normal past-time of his. However, being _mean_ was a new idea to him. Even if it meant being mean to Myungjun, the pure epitome of evil.

He couldn't even ask Bin for help, either, as he normally would have, because how was he supposed to ask, “Hey, Bin, I need help blackmailing your roommate because he has the biggest crush on you and he's also an idiot?”

Dongmin might not know too much about blackmailing, but he _knew_ that blackmailing typically involved one person. And if he was that one person, he was all alone in his task.

He made a list of notes, of ways to properly go about blackmailing Myungjun. They ranged in severity. The first and the easiest entailed just explaining the situation to Bin and letting Myungjun flounder on his own. The last and hardest entailed making a secret diary in Myungjun's handwriting (which would involve learning how to write like Myungjun) that discussed Myungjun's desire to make out with Bin, and then throwing it at Bin's head the next time they met.

He regarded the last note with a small sigh, wondering if perhaps sticking the diary in Bin's bed or something would work better than actually just _throwing_ it at him.

Dongmin leaned back in his chair, eyes drawing up to the ceiling. Jinwoo had scheduled his appointment for that very same day, and the breathing exercises Dongmin had taught himself were hardly helping. Really, the only thing that calmed him down slightly was planning Myungjun's demise, but even that was beginning to lose its charm as the minutes ticked on by.

Myungjun finished up with another patient, and after she checked out, he hoisted himself up on Dongmin's desk, his butt pinning down Dongmin's evil planning sheet.

“So,” he whispered. “Underwear model arrives soon.”

Dongmin shot him a glare before tugging the sheet of paper out from under him. It wouldn't do good for Myungjun to look and find the large title on Dongmin's notepad that said, _How To Ruin Myungjun's Life_. “You lied about the heart murmur.”

“I'm not charging him for this visit, anyway.”

“So you're just wasting everyone's time?”

“You catch on quick, Dongmin.” Myungjun giggled and reached over to smooth Dongmin's hair down and adjust the glasses perched on his nose. “Look at you – you look like a shy, little receptionist. Don't you think Jinwoo would appreciate someone who opened up a bit? Maybe some messy bangs, or just your entire hair all mussed up, and your shirt unbuttoned a little bit. You could also lose the glasses – I don't know, though, glasses can be pretty sexy.”

He had been saying such ever since Bin got new frames for his own glasses, thick and bold and taking up half his face, which Myungjun apparently _adored_.

Myungjun had grabby hands, though, and they were in full-speed, assaulting Dongmin's clothing choice in an attempt to make him look _sexier_.

“Hyung!” Dongmin complained, fighting off those hands. “Will you _stop it?_ I don't _want_ to look sexy for Jinwoo-”

“First name basis?” Myungjun's grin was evil, just like his heart. “Ooh, Dongmin, you move _very_ fast. Here, let me just pinch your lips to bring out the color a little bit more, and then we can show off your chest – stop panicking, Dongmin, you have a nice body, I know you work out. Hold still.”

To be fair, he shouldn't have pushed his chair back suddenly when Myungjun was leaned in so close. He _thought_ it would help him get away, but the only thing it accomplished was letting Myungjun topple over onto him, hands slipping and pulling down at his shirt as he sprawled awkwardly into Dongmin's lap.

And, of course, because life itself was against Dongmin, the door opened and there was Park Jinwoo.

Dongmin waited for death to take him.

“Oh,” was what Jinwoo said, and he cleared his throat. “Uh...I came for Mocha's, um, appointment – I'm sorry, did I walk in-”

Dongmin pushed Myungjun completely out of his lap, allowing his boss to fall harshly down to the hardwood flooring with a loud _oof!_ He fixed his own hair and straightened his shirt.

His lips weren't the only red thing now. He _knew_ his cheeks were burning brightly. He could feel the blood rush up to his face as he scurried to look for Jinwoo's folder.

Myungjun picked himself up with a groan. “ _God_ , Dongmin, there was _no_ reason to act like that. Why are you so embarrassed, anyway?” He glanced at Jinwoo before recognition sprung in his eyes and he gave a small smirk. “ _Oh!_ ”

Jinwoo was the one to respond first to Myungjun's little gasp of exclamation. “Oh?” he repeated, blinking in confusion. “What...what does that mean?”

“I know why Dongmin was embarrassed. Park Jinwoo, correct? Aw, and little Mocha!”

( _Little_ was a strong word to use on a giant Labrador.)

“Dongmin just _loves_ Mocha, don't you, Dongmin?” Myungjun nudged Dongmin's side as the receptionist stapled a few files together. “He told me he would _love_ to live with a man who has a giant-”

“Myungjun wants to get into Bin's pants!” Dongmin blurted out.

He hadn't realized the consequences of that. Typically, he had learned throughout the week, the one and only way to shut Myungjun up was by mentioning Bin. Typically, he had learned throughout the week, it need only be said when they were alone, away from any prying ears.

And now he had spilled the beans to a total stranger, who was staring at him with his head tilted and inquiries ready to spill forth.

“Who's Bin?” Jinwoo asked.

Dongmin didn't _dare_ glance down at Myungjun. He could already feel the menacing aura threatening to overwhelm the small lobby of the vet practice. “Bin...Bin is...”

He hadn't meant to say anything at all, and now it was his duty to smooth things over and make them better. He hoped he could do so before Myungjun tried to murder him.

But how was he supposed to smooth such a terrible mishap over? How was he supposed to take it all back, especially when Myungjun's silence and sudden anger confirmed that, yes, he _did_ want to get into Bin's pants?

“Bin is, um, he's-”

The door opened, and Dongmin was _certain_ that God hated him. God was trying to murder him. God wanted Lee Dongmin to perish.

Because Bin walked in through that door, a small bag in his hand and a crooked grin on his face. “Hey, guys!” he called out cheerfully.

Dongmin didn't have to look to know that Myungjun had stiffened completely.

Bin seemed to recognize the lack of cheer and joy, and his eyes darted nervously to each of the three men (and the dog). “Is...is everything alright?” he asked.

No one answered him, and Bin cleared his throat. “Isn't this guy the one on the billboard, Dongmin?”

Dongmin wished God would strike him down with lightning instead of forcing him to undergo such torture.

“Oh, yeah, that's me.” Jinwoo was the first one to return Bin's smile, and he gave a slight bow. “I'm Park Jinwoo. I didn't realize how famous I was around here.”

“Only famous to a few!” Bin exclaimed, and when he assumed Jinwoo wasn't looking, he shot Dongmin a cheeky grin. “But I'm Moon Bin. I don't work here, but I might as well with how much Myungjun calls me over to eat lunch with him.”

Jinwoo blinked once before his eyes slowly traveled over to Myungjun's tense form. “Bin?” he questioned, and he smiled even wider. “Bin! Nice to meet you, Bin! I've heard a lot about you!”

It was the completely wrong thing to say, and Jinwoo seemed to realize it the moment the words left his mouth. Bin cocked his head, and Jinwoo quickly backtracked. “I mean, just now. I mean, we were just talking about, um...about...”

Myungjun finally seemed to snap out of his anguish, and he hurried around the front desk to snatch his bag from Bin's hands. “I'm not eating lunch today, so-so you can go home, Bin. Thanks, though. Sorry.” As he spoke, he began to push Bin out of the door.

He must not have taken into account the fact that Bin was taller and stronger than Myungjun would ever be, and he stationed his feet at the doorway in a refusal to move. “I'm not leaving! We _always_ eat lunch together! Why is it different now?”

“I have a client to deal with!” Myungjun exclaimed, pushing even harder. “Bin, come on!”

“Hyung, stop it! We're eating lunch together, and that's final! You told me to come right at noon because your appointment wasn't for another thirty minutes!”

It was true, Dongmin realized when he glanced at the time on his computer, and Jinwoo spoke up. “I don't mind waiting. I know I arrived a little early, but I can do with a little bit of rest beforehand, anyway, if you and, um...Bin want to eat lunch together. Dongmin here can keep me company!”

Dongmin didn't know that he would be on a first name basis with Jinwoo, _especially_ after he had accidentally called Jinwoo _Underwear Model_ just a week ago. The blush made its way back up to his cheeks. “M-Myungjun, I think, um...P-Park Jinwoo is right. You and Bin should enjoy lunch. You work very hard, and I know you look forward to this.”

Again, that wasn't the right thing to say. Myungjun _did_ stop pushing, if only to glower at him, and Bin laughed. “Aw, Junnie looks forward to eating with me?” he asked, cooing lightly. “Good, because his Binnie likes to eat-”

“Shut it!” Myungjun snapped, and he moved away from Bin. “Thirty minutes, then. Come on, Bin.” He gestured over to his office, and Bin gave a small chuckle as he waved goodbye to both Dongmin and Jinwoo before disappearing down the hallway. Myungjun waited until he was gone before giving Dongmin the middle finger and hissing, “I'll kill you.”

And then Myungjun was off, rushing after his roommate in order to smooth over any damage that Jinwoo and Dongmin had caused.

The only sound, then, was of the bubbling fish tank on Dongmin's desk, and the claws on Mocha's feet as she turned around to find a comfortable spot to sleep.

Jinwoo cleared his throat and finally ended up muttering, “Well, that was awkward.”

Why wouldn't God smite him down? “I'm so sorry,” Dongmin apologized. “It...it just came out. Myungjun's been annoying me for god knows how long, and I've been meaning to use that as blackmail material, but I think I suck at blackmailing people.”

“You want to use his crush with that Bin kid as blackmail material?”

Dongmin nodded weakly before taking a seat back down at his desk. “He teases me about _everything_. The only way he shuts up is if I mention Bin. And...I just mentioned Bin in the wrong company, I guess.” Jinwoo was staring at him curiously, and Dongmin sighed. “Look, you can't talk about Bin ever again to him, alright? I-I mean, I know I shouldn't be telling you what to do and all, but-”

“I think it's so cute, though!” Jinwoo exclaimed. “I mean, he's so _obviously_ in love with Bin, but I don't think Bin even notices. Does Bin notice?”

“Um...” That wasn't what he expected. He thought Jinwoo would find the entire thing ridiculous, but instead he was _encouraging_ a relationship between Myungjun and Bin? “N-No, he...he doesn't notice it.” He should have stopped there, but he was _dying_ to talk to somebody about Myungjun's infatuation. Minhyuk didn't listen, and Sanha didn't care, and other than Myungjun or Bin themselves, he had no one else with which to discuss this interesting information. “Myungjun's been in love with Bin since Day One,” he blurted out, making certain to keep his voice down low so that Myungjun, still down the hall, couldn't hear him. “I think Bin laughed at a joke he told, and it just went from there. They became roommates and Myungjun has always denied ever having a crush-”

“Ooh, but he _really_ does.” Jinwoo seemed pleased to be gossiping. “I mean, did you see the way his eyes sparkled when Bin walked through that door? And when Bin called him _Junnie_ -”

“I know, isn't it adorable?” Dongmin whispered, a grin coming to his face. “The only issue is, though, I don't know if _Bin_ likes _Myungjun_. Bin's a little more difficult to figure out, so I can't really tell what _his_ thoughts and feelings are on the entire situation.”

Jinwoo gave a small _hmm_ and scratched his chin. “Well, the nicknames are one thing,” he murmured. “The fact that he so readily calls him _Junnie_ without hesitation makes me think that it's something he uses regularly. And he called _himself_ Binnie – is that something he says a lot?”

Dongmin shook his head. “I've never heard it,” he replied.

“So it's something he only calls himself in front of Myungjun, then, right?”

“Hopefully.”

Jinwoo smiled widely, and Dongmin was reminded of a mouse. A cute mouse. The cutest mouse in all existence. He had been so focused on Myungjun and Bin's relationship for a while that he completely forgot how much _he_ had a crush on _Jinwoo_.

“Give me your number, Dongmin.”

At first, he wondered if he had imagined that sentence. After all, why would a hot underwear model ask for _his_ number? It didn't make any sense. But, when he blinked, Jinwoo was actually taking out his cell phone.

“Wha-What for?”

Jinwoo was quiet for a second before suddenly plastering on a large grin. “It's, um, just so I can stay updated on all of this. Text me _everything_ going on between those two!”

“But...do you have time? I mean, between modeling and...and your own personal life?” Jinwoo glanced up at him, and Dongmin continued. “I mean, models...don't they go to a lot of parties and they have...a significant other?”

“You watch too many movies.” Jinwoo snorted and slid his phone across the desk for Dongmin. “Literally all I do is go to work, spend the whole day at the shoot and exhaust myself out taking thousands of pictures, and then I'm home. Maybe higher quality models have friends and girlfriends, but I'm a loser model.”

Dongmin quickly took Jinwoo's phone and entered in his number. “You're not a loser model,” he assured. “I mean, _I_ like seeing that picture outside the vet practice.”

Jinwoo glanced behind him, at his own sultry image, and gave a nervous chuckle. “Now you're making me feel awkward,” he complained. “That's not even my best shoot. I like the ones where I can wear a few more layers than just _underwear_. Gets a little drafty after a while.”

Dongmin wouldn't mind Jinwoo with less layers. He would take whatever image of Jinwoo he could get. “Ah, so...so no girlfriend?” he asked, passing back the phone, and when Jinwoo raised an eyebrow, he quickly added, “Just wondering, since you said _girlfriends_ , and-”

“Myungjun mentioned that you would love to live with a man with a giant...” Jinwoo trailed off, playing with his phone, then mumbled, “I'm assuming he was going to say _dog?_ ”

Assumptions should never be made when Myungjun was in the picture, but Dongmin nodded regardless. “Yeah. Dog.”

“Right.” Jinwoo cleared his throat. “But...a _man?_ ”

He didn't expect to be outed to his crush in such a manner, especially when his crush was probably straight. “Ah,” was his intelligent answer, and he fell silent.

Jinwoo laughed and pocketed his phone. “Don't worry! I'm definitely not here to judge you! Honestly, I don't think I expected it, because you look like the sort of man that girls would fawn over, but each to their own, am I right?”

He nodded, just because he wasn't sure how else to respond.

“I can also keep a lookout to find you a man who has a giant, um...dog. Would that be okay?” Jinwoo asked. “I think you deserve it! And, honestly, it wouldn't be _too_ difficult. You have such a pretty face. I know several straight men who would fawn over you just as much as girls would, honestly.”

“Oh.” Dongmin felt the exact opposite from smart and studious right now, and the tips of his ears felt warm as his heart pounded in his chest.

Did Jinwoo just call him _pretty?_

Even if Jinwoo wasn't gay, the fact that he called Dongmin _pretty_ was telling in and of itself. It meant at least _some_ sort of physical attraction had occurred, which was more than Dongmin had dreamed of happening before.

Jinwoo thought he was pretty.

A smile slid across his face and he tried to hide it, but Jinwoo took notice. “Ooh, Dongmin, are you smiling because I called you _pretty?_ I wonder how wide you would smile if I called you a model, because you definitely are one. You belong up on billboards, not me.”

“That's a complete lie,” Dongmin assured, and he was grinning now.

“Nope, it's the truth. God, you're really cute! Anyone would be lucky to call _you_ their boyfriend!”

He would like for Jinwoo to continue. As embarrassing as it was, his body felt light and fluttery every single time Jinwoo shot him a compliment, and he wondered if he would be able to float on air after this. He was willing to return his own compliments, as well, but Myungjun suddenly came back down the hall again, his face a brilliant red, and he pointed at Jinwoo.

“You!” he announced.

“Me?” Jinwoo asked.

“Your appointment is early now.” Myungjun was breathing deeply. “So that way I can murder the hell out of Dongmin's scrawny ass after it's all said and done.”

“I don't think I can allow that,” Jinwoo joked, but he tugged at his dog's leash, anyway. “I'll text you, Dongmin! You definitely need to keep me updated on _this_ particular issue, alright?”

He wasn't inconspicuous at all. He nodded toward Myungjun twice before giving a heavy wink, and Myungjun definitely caught sight of it. “I'm charging you for this visit,” he fussed. “Dongmin, add on the vet visit fee. I'm milking this dumb model for all he's worth.”

Any other guest would had been affronted, and rightly so, but Jinwoo just laughed loudly, shoulders shaking in a jolly motion and cheeks pushed his eyes up brightly.

He was beautiful, no matter what, and Dongmin definitely wasn't going to charge him for a damn thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oR NOT  
> this chapter was a tough one to write, so i do apologize (especially to my dear mary) for how long it took to come out! BUT HERE WE ARE! i hope this chapter satisfies! 
> 
> hit me up with some dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	4. mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talking to Jinwoo had now become as awkward as staring at his shirtless advertisement was. Dongmin hated it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyy baddabing. it's been a while ;A;. i hope you guys are still here

Staring at Jinwoo's large billboard had now become awkward.

It wasn't as if the Jinwoo in the advertisement would suddenly come to life and jump down and confront Dongmin for sighing dreamily at him several times throughout the day. Dongmin _knew_ that. However, ever since Jinwoo sent him that first text of, _it's me, your underwear model!_ , Dongmin had just become too nervous to actually even glance up at the billboard.

Jinwoo knew how Dongmin thought of him, and Dongmin decided that if he could condition himself to forget about Jinwoo posing for a photograph with his thumb hooked right around the waistband of the brand-name underwear the fit him _oh so nicely-_

Well, it was more difficult than he thought to push it out of his mind. Now that he wasn't actively staring at the image, it decided to ingrain itself in his memory, forcing the mental picture to be on the forefront of his mind at all times during the day.

It was overwhelming and exhausting, and after a while, Dongmin would look for any excuse to escape from the vet's office.

Unfortunately, it seemed he would have to wait until lunch. He had tried to get away earlier, by sitting in the back office _during_ his hours.

“No,” came Myungjun's quick rejection of that plan.

“Why not?” Dongmin countered. “I have it all worked out! I won't close the office door, and I've already installed a small bell over _our_ front door, so whenever someone walks in, it'll make some noise.” Dongmin demonstrated his handiness as quick as possible, then shot Myungjun an award-winning smile. “See? It's a perfect idea.”

“No means no!”

Dongmin stared at him before clearing his throat. “Look, I'm asking as a _friend_ , Myungjun.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. It'll be easier on me if I sit there instead of up here.”

Myungjun raised his eyebrows and leaned back on the front counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Why's that, Dongmin?”

He wasn't quite sure how to explain, _because a sexy Jinwoo is messing with my mind and sometimes my body and I need to get away from that_ without giving Myungjun way more fuel than he needed to. But he also wasn't quite sure how to justify his idea _without_ giving everything away.

Dongmin was smart; Dongmin wasn't good with being under pressure, though.

“It's...it's personal reasons that I would rather not discuss at this moment while we're both in a professional setting-”

“Is it because Mister Underwear Model makes you all hot and bothered?” Myungjun glanced down suddenly, right below Dongmin's waist, then met his gaze again. “Not now, but I'm sure if you look at him enough...”

If people could die of embarrassment, Dongmin was certain he would be deceased five times over. His face warmed up, and he _knew_ he was blushing, both by the sudden blood rush to his cheeks and by the shit-eating grin that spread across Myungjun's face.

He had to utilize the only secret weapon that could defeat Myungjun, and he pointed an accusing finger at his boss. “At least I don't have wet dreams about my roommate!”

Sure enough, that wiped the smile clean off, and Dongmin felt pleased with himself for a split second, until Myungjun fired back, “At least I _have_ a roommate!”

“At least I can afford to live by myself!”

“I'm a fucking vet, I can _totally_ afford to live by myself, you idiot.”

Dongmin was unable to think of a comeback to that one, honestly. His brain supplied him with information; mostly referring to the fact that Myungjun _could_ afford a house, and yet he chose to live in Bin's smaller apartment because of his weird infatuation.

But how could he make that into a compelling quip without explaining himself and the process behind his thoughts?

Dongmin's skill set didn't include insulting others. He had to let Myungjun take the win in this case.

“Please,” he tried again, “just let me stay in the back room until guests-”

“No. Answer is final, Dongmin. I know we're friends, but this is a _job_.”

Dongmin sighed; maybe he ended up looking a little _too_ downcast, because Myungjun added, “If you want, I can climb up there and post a picture of my face over his face and then you'll never want to jack off to it ever again.”

Dongmin ended up throwing a large file at him (which Myungjun easily dodged, cackling as he darted back to his office).

In the end, he had to accept his fate. He was going to sit at the front desk, regardless of whether or not he truly _liked_ seeing that stupid billboard stationed right in front of the window. He did everything in his power to hide it, but nothing worked properly – and when it _did_ work, he found himself unconsciously moving in his seat to stare at it, regardless of how well his defense had been.

The only thing he could do to prevent too much gawking and staring was completely changing his lunch location. Instead of eating outside, he now ate at a small diner down the street and around the corner, where the advertisement was out of sight.

(Not out of mind.)

It worked exceedingly well for two days. He forced himself to focus on other sights and other people. He forced himself not to have a near heart attack whenever Jinwoo sent him a text message.

(It was a total of four text messages: _it's me, your underwear model!;_ _i just wanted to make sure that short vet hadn't ruined your life yet.; yes i know im shorter u didnt have to bring that up.; u didnt complain about my height when u seemed interested in my modeling ;D._ )

Dongmin couldn't respond to the last message. He _couldn't_. He screenshot it, though. He stared at that winky face emoji for two days.

(That was his _other sight_ in replacement of the billboard.)

But he never once responded. How _was_ the supposed to respond to that? Was it a flirty message? Or was it just something two guys would send to each other? Would a straight man send a message like that, especially when said straight man _knew_ the receiver was gay? Or perhaps it was all just something stupid and casual that Dongmin was reading _way_ too much into.

He felt as if it was something dumb. He felt as if he didn't need to panic over a silly text message to the extent that he was. If Jinwoo meant anything by it, he would text back, wouldn't he?

But two days was a long time to go without a response. Maybe Jinwoo was bored of waiting. He probably had tons of friends, so why would he bother texting _Dongmin_ back?

With a groan, Dongmin slouched over in his seat and looked at his sandwich. Oddly enough, he was _hungry_. He hardly ate lunch since meeting Jinwoo, because his stomach felt as if it was filled with too many butterflies whenever he glanced up at that billboard. Such a feeling didn't really leave much room for stuffing his face, and he had usually forwent his lunch in order to try and calm himself down.

Now that the Jinwoo billboard was out of the way, he felt his stomach growling.

And, sure, he realized as he picked up his meal, the texting _was_ still an issue, but Jinwoo on the phone was different from looking straight into Jinwoo's handsome face and his smoldering, dark eyes and his perfectly sharp features.

It was _definitely_ way different than hearing his voice, rough and yet soft, sounding out his name, a giggle poised at the last syllable as he grinned, lips pushing upwards at his cheeks and creating the most _endearing_ smile Dongmin had ever laid sights on.

He didn't know if he would actually be able to eat the sandwich. He plopped it back down on the plate and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I have a crush on the most unattainable person,” he murmured to himself.

He needed to get rid of the crush, first and foremost. He needed to get rid of the feelings and emotions that welled up in himself whenever he so much as _thought_ about Jinwoo.

The only way to do that, he decided, was by distancing himself. He could change up the entryway to the vet's office, if Myungjun would allow him. He could move the desk in a certain position so that he would no longer see Park Jinwoo staring back at him. And he would figure out which days Jinwoo made appointments, so that way he could call out sick in order to never again look at him.

It was sad, but Dongmin was determined that this was the only way to live a normal life once more.

He didn't even _leave_ the diner, though, before all of his plans came crashing down.

Park Jinwoo walked in through the door.

_Park. Jinwoo_. The one person in the entire world Dongmin wanted to avoid. The one person in the entire world who showed up, regardless.

Out of every single restaurant in the city, he had chosen _this particular restaurant_.

Dongmin wished he could melt on will. He would turn into a small puddle and someone would mop him up and then he would no longer cease to exist.

He spun back around in his seat. His heart beat fast in his chest, as it normally did the other two times he had seen Park Jinwoo in the flesh. If Jinwoo noticed him, then Dongmin's plans would be ruined forever. If Jinwoo _spoke_ to him, Dongmin could kiss his happiness goodbye.

The way he saw it, there were only two options: he could allow Jinwoo to become his friend, which would result in heartbreak and pain from being nothing _more_ than a friend, or he could distance himself physically from Jinwoo, which was rude and would still result in heartbreak and pain.

Neither option was desirable, and Dongmin figured it would be better to just run and escape both the billboard Jinwoo and the _person_ Jinwoo.

But person Jinwoo could catch him, unlike billboard Jinwoo.

“Dongmin?” Jinwoo's voice rang out the moment Dongmin stood from his spot. “Dongmin, is that you?”

Dongmin's mind tried laying out a plethora of options, different paths he could now take, but his mouth spoke before his brain could choose. “It's me!”

Maybe his heart was speaking. He mentally told it to shut up.

Jinwoo grinned and hurried over to his table, and while Dongmin tried to return the grin the best he could, he really couldn't rival the gummy smile that the shorter man was delivering his way. It was brilliant and sweet and _so_ adorable, especially in comparison to his seducing pose on the advertisement. Dongmin liked to see this side of Jinwoo.

Dongmin liked to see Jinwoo.

“I didn't know you ate lunch here,” Jinwoo commented. “I try and eat here whenever I can, and I've never seen you before.”

Dongmin cleared his throat. He had to make small talk now with the man he was trying to avoid. Fantastic. “Well, um, you just met me a few weeks ago, so you probably never recognized me before.”

But Jinwoo was already shaking his head in response to that suggestion. “No, I definitely would have noticed someone as attractive as you. I mean, come on, you look like a painting come to life, Dongmin!”

Dongmin had been blessed with good looks – or so he had been told. And he decided, when he looked in mirrors, he wasn't so bad when he really fixed himself up, when he used proper facial cleansers and parted his hair nicely and sometimes used a product to hide the bags under his eyes from late nights spent studying during his college years. He was used to being told he looked handsome, and he usually denied that charge; he liked to stay humble, after all, and he wasn't model material.

But a _model_ was standing in front of him, saying that _he_ looked pretty. A man whose job was to make others fawn over him was actually saying that _Dongmin_ was the attractive one.

Dongmin's heart hammered rapidly in his chest. His palms felt sweaty, and he clenched them once before wiping them on his pants. “Not...not really. Honestly.” He gestured toward Jinwoo. “Y-You're the model out of the two of us. And for good reason! _You're_ the attractive one!”

Unlike Dongmin, Jinwoo didn't turn into a blushing, stammering mess. Instead, Jinwoo just laughed, and Dongmin couldn't really tell what type of laugh it was. It didn't sound as if he was trying to laugh off Dongmin's statement, but it didn't sound as if he _agreed_ with it, either.

But it was cheerful and breathy and Dongmin was mesmerized by it.

“You're such a dork, Dongmin!” Jinwoo exclaimed, and then he suddenly took a seat. “How about we eat lunch together? I never have anyone to eat lunch with these days, so I think it'd be nice, don't you?”

Dongmin blinked. “Lunch?”

“Yeah. You have a sandwich, so you were just about to eat, weren't you?”

Dongmin didn't know how to explain that he had been sitting over his meal for fifteen minutes already. Dongmin didn't want to explain that, either.

He wanted to eat lunch with Jinwoo.

So he sat right back down in his chair, uncertain of how he could actually swallow anything he had bought when the butterflies in his stomach were multiplying by the dozen.

Jinwoo seemed normal, though. Jinwoo didn't seem stressed or panicked by their proximity or their lunch-date setting or _anything_. He just seemed like a friend.

Could their relationship be constituted as friendship? As Dongmin had already mentioned to him, they didn't _know_ each other up until a few weeks ago. And even then, it had been two meetings and four text messages exchanged. Was that enough material to create a friendship?

“Are you not hungry?” Jinwoo suddenly asked, breaking into Dongmin's thoughts.

“Hm? Oh.” Oh, right. His sandwich. He smiled, a little awkwardly, a little nervously, and picked it up once more. “Not really. I, um, I had a few snacks at the office before coming here, so I think I overestimated my stomach.”

Jinwoo laughed again; it was a chuckle this time, a sign he really did find something funny, and Dongmin's smile became a little more genuine.

He liked being the reason Jinwoo was laughing.

“Does that short vet let you eat while you're working?”

“Myungjun,” Dongmin supplied, and Jinwoo nodded his head in confirmation. “And, yeah. If I hide it from him.”

“Then that's a _no_ , not a _yeah_. If you have to hide it, I think that he doesn't actually allow it.” Jinwoo snorted and took another bite of his meal.

“How's your dog doing?” Dongmin asked hurriedly. He wanted to be a contributing part of the conversation, as well. He didn't want Jinwoo to ask all of the questions; that could become tiresome after a while. “Mocha, right?”

He probably should have waited until Jinwoo was no longer eating. As it was, there was an awkward silence where Jinwoo rushed to chew and swallow his food.

Dongmin still held onto his wish to be turned into a puddle. Puddles didn't embarrass themselves in front of extremely attractive models in such a manner.

“She's doing great!” Jinwoo said, and his eyes lit up when he mentioned his dog. Dongmin watched them with interest. Jinwoo was talking about the Labrador, bringing up her favorite food and trying to show off a few pictures he had taken of her earlier that morning.

Jinwoo's eyes sparkled when he conversed about things he loved.

Dongmin wished he could make Jinwoo's eyes sparkle.

It took him a few seconds, though, to realize Jinwoo had finally stopped talking, and he was staring at Dongmin expectantly.

Dongmin sat back quickly. “Sorry, what?”

The older boy grinned. He did so easily and casually and he let _Dongmin_ experience such a wonderful sight.

(Maybe Jinwoo was a kind god.)

“Did you find yourself a man with a big, um, dog yet?”

“Oh my god.”

Jinwoo's laughter this time was louder, harsher, a raw sort of laugh that clearly showed how much he enjoyed torturing Dongmin with those sorts of questions.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I still think about that from time to time, though! It still makes me laugh.”

It obviously did, and Dongmin groaned. “Myungjun-hyung says the most embarrassing things sometimes. I'm so sorry you had to hear that.”

“Don't apologize for it! I think Myungjun is funny. Besides, now it makes me want to find you a man with a big dog.”

Dongmin had been running a hand along his face, but with Jinwoo's words, he peeked through his fingers. “Excuse me?”

“Well, I mean, Myungjun has that...that other guy, I forgot his name. But I'm assuming you don't have anybody to eat lunch with or to hang out with. It seems lonely. And if you want a man with a big _dog_ , then you deserve a man with a big dog.”

“Where the heck will you find a man with a...?”

Jinwoo snorted again, then pointed at himself. “Well, for one, there's me.”

Dongmin's heart skipped a beat.

“But I'm assuming you want someone into _men_ , so...”

Dongmin's heart returned to its steady beating, but it did so painfully.

“Oh. Yeah. Um...that'd be nice,” he replied, and he tried to smile, but he wasn't sure if it worked.

Regardless, Jinwoo didn't say any more on the subject. He returned the smile, and it looked just as soulless as Dongmin's was.

“How's that goldfish on your desk?” Jinwoo asked.

Talking to Jinwoo had now become as awkward as staring at his shirtless advertisement was. Dongmin hated it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how long it's now taking me to update things. be on the lookout for shifter next!
> 
> hmu with them dolla bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!!!


	5. misstep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was stupid to even bother looking up at Jinwoo's face. All that remained now would be heartache and loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i had a lot of plans for this chapter, a lot more is supposed to happen, but i'll have to cut it into TWO chapters, because i couldn't fit everything in here.
> 
> tho, tbh, half of this chapter could be cut and it would be fine. i'm just an idiot.

Despite his everlasting exasperation with Myungjun, Dongmin had to admit that he _was_ a good friend. Even if he tried way too hard (and unsuccessfully) to set Dongmin up with Jinwoo, and even if he was _way_ too inappropriate at times, Dongmin really did appreciate the fact that Myungjun stuck around and _listened_ to him and made certain that all was well.

They would go out for drinks at least once a week, usually after work, usually after a _hard_ day of work. Myungjun liked to rewind, and he liked to do so in a location where he could discuss whatever was on his mind with Dongmin, who, so quoted by Myungjun, “is a pillar of secrecy.”

Well, he _had_ been a pillar of secrecy. Up until he spilled the beans of Myungjun's supposed romantic interest.

“It was just Jinwoo,” Dongmin defended himself, pouring soju into his glass cup. “Jinwoo doesn't even know who Bin is.”

“He _met_ Bin!” Myungjun pointed out. “He met Bin and he wore this stupid smile, and Bin asked me what was up with him. Do you know how difficult it is to lie to Bin?”

“Not too difficult. He believes the most ridiculous nonsense.”

Myungjun glowered, seemingly affronted with Dongmin's little quip towards the love of his life. “He does _not_.”

Dongmin sighed. He had hoped an outing with Myungjun wouldn't entail so much discussion about Bin, especially when Dongmin knew there was still a chance that the two of them would end up together at some point. After all, Bin was into _guys_. Bin found men attractive. Bin dated men, from time to time (and Dongmin would know if Bin was currently seeing someone by the way Myungjun would act, and the way Bin wouldn't come around for lunch). It was a possibility, then, that Myungjun and Bin could find love in each other.

Dongmin didn't have that luxury. The one man he found himself growing fond of, found himself falling head over heels for, was straight. He would either have to pine from afar, to hurt himself as he watched Jinwoo develop relationships with girls, relationships with people who were _not_ him, or he could move on.

But moving on was easier said than done.

It would have been simple if Jinwoo was nothing but an advertisement on a billboard. It would have just been a stupid, little crush. But since meeting, since eating _lunch_ together, Dongmin had realized that Jinwoo was a living, breathing, _perfect_ human being, and now he didn't know how to back out of his infatuation. He was stuck, falling for Jinwoo the more he thought of him.

_Don't think of him, then, you idiot_ , his mind informed him. Dongmin wondered why his mind sounded so awfully similar to Myungjun's voice.

He gulped down his drink, savoring the burn at the back of his throat, and he gave a loud sigh as he set his glass down again.

“Slow it down, Dongmin. Jesus christ, you know you can't drink that much before you start getting tipsy. Why are you trying to hurry this evening along?”

Maybe he heard Myungjun's voice because Myungjun simply never stopped speaking.

“I have my reasons,” he mumbled as he poured himself more of the strong alcohol. He wondered if he would be able to get drunk tonight. He would very much like to do so, because that would mean he could push Jinwoo from his mind, if even only for a few hours, at least until he fell asleep.

Myungjun narrowed his eyes, and Dongmin figured that this might be one of the few times Myungjun would take up the task of being the responsible one of the two of them. “If you have _reasons_ for drinking, that's something that can lead to alcoholism.”

Dongmin simply shrugged his shoulders. “It's not like I drink every single night,” he defended himself, and his actions. He took another drink, large and fast, but refrained from downing his soju. Not with Myungjun's wary gaze stationed on him. “Besides, I have _good_ reasons for doing this.”

“Explain.”

Dongmin didn't want to tell Myungjun anything. He didn't want to admit that he was beginning to fall in love with a man who was straight, who would never see him as anything more than a friend. He didn't want to admit that Jinwoo was on the lookout for a _boyfriend_ for Dongmin, and the irony of that definitely wouldn't be missed.

But drinking was a time to spill secrets, to let loose his burdens, and Myungjun had always so easily and readily accepted it all. It was difficult to _not_ release his own emotions, in this environment, with the sound of glass clinking among glass as people poured cup after cup of their own soju, a task Dongmin would willingly partake in. The small, smokey bar welcomed its downtrodden customers to let free their troubles.

Dongmin would accept.

“Jinwoo is straight.”

He was pouring himself more alcohol, scared to look up and meet Myungjun's expression.

“What?”

“Jinwoo. Is. Straight.” The repeated words were harsh, though Dongmin's anger wasn't directed at Myungjun. Rather, he was mad with himself, for loving a man who obviously could never love him back, be it as an advertisement for underwear or a human with a different sexuality. He was stupid to even bother looking up at Jinwoo's face. All that remained now would be heartache and loneliness. “He said he isn't into men.” Dongmin felt like whining, now that he had actually admitted the truth, and so he did. “Myungjun, he said that he was a man with a big dog, since I want a man with a big dog, and then he said that _he_ wasn't into men, and the conversation trailed off and I wanted to _die!_ Can you cancel all of his future appointments? I can't look at him again, I-”

“A big dog?”

“It was your fault,” Dongmin pouted. “You were the one that had mentioned that. _God_ , I'm so dumb for everything I ever said to him.” He ran his fingers through his hair, destroying the soft, combed style he had put it in earlier that morning, tugging at the strands in frustration. “I just never want to see him again.”

“He's straight?”

Myungjun still seemed confused and unsure, and Dongmin glared at him. “How many times do I have to say it?” he questioned. “I don't want to repeat myself again, Myungjun, _please_ , just-”

“No, but...” Myungjun wrinkled his nose and stared at his own cup of soju. “I could have sworn he was gay.”

“Nothing about him screams gay, come on-”

“No offense, but you couldn't detect a gay person if they groped your dick,” Myungjun shot back. Dongmin sputtered, red in the face, but Myungjun still appeared in thought. “So suddenly, despite _my_ brilliant detection of people with a love of the male body, Jinwoo...likes females? He likes _girls?_ ”

Dongmin drank rather than answer that particular question again.

“This might be awkward, then.”

“What?”

Myungjun shifted in his seat before grinning nervously at Dongmin. “I might have used his file to grab his number and invite him out with us.”

The alcohol was making his brain fuzzy, and it took his mind a little while longer to process what Myungjun had just said. His mind didn't _like_ it. His mind wanted nothing at all to do with this information, to do with this night, to do with this short, evil man sitting in front of him.

“Myungjun, you _didn't_.”

“He said he'd be here in ten minutes. At first it was twenty, but I mentioned you would be here, so he told me maybe he'd make it in ten, so I'm assuming it should be soon, but I thought he was gay!” At least Myungjun seemed apologetic for his mistake – sort of. He still smiled and tapped the table with his fingers. “Well, at least now maybe you can convince him that he probably likes boys.”

Dongmin couldn't believe _this_. He couldn't believe this evening and the circumstances that would require him to share a drink with the straight man who had so readily rejected him. And it was all Myungjun's fault. Sure, maybe it was a mishap, a stupid move, but Dongmin needed someone to blame, and Myungjun was easiest at the moment.

But he couldn't throw a fuss. He couldn't do that when Jinwoo would be walking into the bar at any minute, and he couldn't do that when Lee Dongmin was a man free from fussing and raising his voice and outward anger.

Lee Dongmin was not a man who threw temper tantrums.

He picked his phone up off the table and stared at his reflection on the black screen. His hair was a mess now and his clothes were slightly rumpled after a long day of work, and there was nothing he could do, unless he chose to leave. Leaving would be the best option; he wouldn't have to see Jinwoo if he walked out of those doors.

Yet, he _wanted_ to see Jinwoo. He _wanted_ to watch him drink, to watch him laugh, to watch him joke, and he wanted to pretend that Myungjun was out of the picture and it was just Jinwoo sitting across from him.

Except Jinwoo liked girls.

Dongmin stood from his seat hurriedly, swaying only a little bit as he did so. He managed to keep upright, however, and he pointed an accusing finger in Myungjun's direction. “You're a jerk,” he stated.

“No, I was going to set you up. Doesn't that make me nice?” Myungjun waved him back down to his seat, not looking very amused at the reaction he had gotten. “Look, I didn't know that you had talked to him and that he told you he wasn't gay – when was this, though? I thought you guys only interacted at the office.”

“I went to a new spot for lunch and he was there.” Dongmin glanced over at the doors to the bar as they opened; he sighed in relief when it wasn't Jinwoo who walked in. “Myungjun, I _can't_ face him again. I feel so stupid around him, and, and knowing that he's right beside me and I can't ever do anything more than just be a silly friend, it's...well, _you_ know how it is.”

The reference to Bin wasn't lost, and Myungjun frowned, quickly downing his glass of soju before pouring another one. “You can go, then. I'll just tell him that you got sick and had to leave. I'll just drink with _him_ instead.”

He wasn't too worried about anything happening; after all, not only was Jinwoo straight, but Myungjun's heart was set on someone else unattainable. Dongmin could finally relate, finally understand the pain of close contact.

He bowed his head. “Thank you. I promise I'll make it up to you, Myungjun. I'll pay for drinks the next few times we go out.”

Myungjun's response was a wave of his hand, obviously too caught up in his lonely drinking experience, thoughts probably lingering on Moon Bin. And, before Myungjun would change his mind and demand a partner to sit with him, Dongmin turned to escape the confines of the shop.

He should have left earlier.

The door opened again, just as Dongmin took a step for it. This time, it was a familiar face. This time, it was bleached hair and earrings and inquisitive eyes around the bar, before they landed on Dongmin and lit up with warmth and recognition.

“Dongmin!” Jinwoo greeted, crossing the entrance of the bar, cutting off Dongmin's only means of escape. His voice caught the attention of Myungjun, as well, who turned mid-drink and coughed into his cup. Jinwoo didn't seem to notice; Jinwoo's gaze fell solely on Dongmin. “It's nice to see you again! You haven't been texting me at all, even though Myungjun has, and I was worried you were upset with me for some reason.”

Dongmin _was_ upset, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly who to put the blame on. It would be difficult to place it on himself, on account he couldn't really control his own feelings, and it was even more difficult to put it on Jinwoo, on account he was grinning brightly and how could Dongmin be _angry_ at a man who grinned like that?

So, instead, he decided to direct his anger, his petty behavior, to Myungjun, the perpetrator of this entire situation.

“Yes, well, Myungjun has me working so often now that it's difficult to find a time to sit back and text my friends. Isn't that right, Myungjun?”

The glare Dongmin sent in Myungjun's direction was enough to make the older man clear his throat and nod slightly before returning to his soju, drinking even more than Dongmin had already consumed.

Jinwoo just laughed, then hooked arms with Dongmin, leading him back to the table. “I was a little shocked that he asked me out for drinks, but it makes sense if you're here.”

How did it make sense? It made absolutely _no_ sense, whatsoever. It made Dongmin's head whirl and spin (though that might have been the alcohol playing a role), and as Jinwoo sat him down, he longed to just run to the cool outdoors and allow the breeze to blow away his issues and problems.

In fact, as Jinwoo poured himself a drink, he wished the breeze would turn into a tornado and whisk him away elsewhere.

He would become Dorothy and travel to Oz, except he refused to return home.

Jinwoo had already engaged in smalltalk with Myungjun, making himself quite at home and urging Dongmin to do the same by pouring _him_ a drink, as well.

“He's already had some,” Myungjun commented, but his words fell on deaf ears. Dongmin gulped every last drop, every last sip of alcohol, and placed his glass back on the table with a sigh.

He ignored Myungjun's worried stare and instead glanced at Jinwoo, who was smiling still. “Rough day?” Jinwoo asked.

“Rough few weeks,” Dongmin responded, remembering, once more, of Jinwoo's admission at that restaurant. It _had_ been a rough few weeks, as he tried to convince his feelings to stop bubbling up, to stop falling for a man who would never like him back.

But Jinwoo obviously caught on to none of Dongmin's inner turmoil. He just gave Dongmin's back a small, comforting pat instead, and said, “I bet it'll be better later on, though, won't it?”

Dongmin decided that, no, it wouldn't be, because Jinwoo was touching him and it made Dongmin's heart race, and yet they were _just friends_. He would have rather Jinwoo never shown up, honestly, because it hurt too much to see him just out of his reach.

So as the conversation moved on, as Myungjun asked about Jinwoo's dog, Dongmin, scooting away from the other two, checked his phone. He needed an excuse – any lame excuse – to make a quick break. If he was like Myungjun, a liar through and through, he could easily come up with one on the spot and then run. However, _Dongmin_ was a planner. He needed something to back up his own claims.

He texted Bin of his troublesome life: _Help me, Myungjun and I are drinking and he invited Jinwoo and now I don't know what to do._

He had figured it was clear and concise enough for Bin to work with, to possibly call Myungjun and invent a reason that Dongmin needed to leave. In fact, the text Bin sent right after was, _dont worry minnie, ive got you._ That was supposed to be a response that entailed a plan, an _excuse_.

But then nothing came.

Myungjun continued drinking and chatting with Jinwoo (who was drinking far less than the other two were). Myungjun's phone never rang, never vibrated. Maybe the plan was more elaborate, but was it _really_ like Bin to plan something drastic and lengthy just to get Dongmin out of a bar?

He checked his own phone. Nothing. Maybe Bin was sidetracked?

So he texted again: _What's the plan, Bin?_

Fortunately, this time, Bin graced him with an answer, and Dongmin read it with the sinking realization that now it was _his_ turn to make this outing far worse than it needed to be.

_I'm on my way! Don't tell Myungjunnie, it's a surprise!_

Dongmin stared down at the text in a panic.

After he had just finished fussing to Myungjun about inviting _his_ crush, after he just finished explaining his own struggle being around the man he loved while nothing would come from it, and he accidentally brought _Bin_ over to the bar?

The Bin who Myungjun had been head over heels for since Day One of their meeting?

This had to be an awful joke from a deity above. This had to be punishment for something Dongmin screwed up in his past life. There was no way every single thing could go so utterly, horribly wrong while he tried to control the situations.

One thing was for certain – he refused to make Bin's appearance a surprise to an already-tipsy Myungjun.

“Myungjun?” he muttered, tugging on his friend's sleeve. “Myungjun?”

Both the older boys looked in his direction. Jinwoo still had that sweet, warm smile on his face. Myungjun swayed in his seat as he turned, a giggle spilling from his lips, “What's up, Dongmin?”

“I, uh...” Dongmin cleared his throat. Doing something wrong was difficult enough; admitting he did something wrong was ten times worse. “I might have invited, um, someone over that I shouldn't have.”

“Someone you...? You can invite one of your friends. I can just keep talking to Jinwoo.”

“I did invite a friend.”

“So what's the issue?”

Now, even Jinwoo looked curious, his head cocked as he awaited the answer.

Dongmin took a deep breath. “You see-”

The door opened and a voice rang through the air before Dongmin could get another word out: “Hey, Myungjunnie, why didn't you invite _me_ out with you?”

Dongmin watched as Myungjun's face morphed into one of horror, the easy grin now transforming into an open-mouthed _O_ as Bin strode confidently to their table. “Even Jinwoo got invited, and I didn't? Wow, Hyung, do you hate me that much?”

Dongmin could attest to the fact that Myungjun didn't hate Bin. He could also attest to the fact, he realized as Myungjun slowly turned to glare at him, that the only person Myungjun hated was _him_. Myungjun hated Dongmin.

Dongmin couldn't even blame him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you guys are still enjoying this story! hmu [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com) with some dollar bills if you are!


	6. mirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongmin went silent. He felt like he could hardly breathe, watching this gorgeous man in front of him spill some sort of secret, something that he would only entrust to someone who was drunk out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally get more jincha wow

Bin and Jinwoo somehow managed to hit it off rather well. They fell into conversation with ease, acting as if they were old friends who just had the chance to catch up with each other. Their tone was light and their smiles were wide as they discussed topics ranging from the best sort of alcoholic drinks (Jinwoo like flavored soju, something Dongmin stored away uselessly in his mind) to what really happened after death (Jinwoo believed in heaven and angels and ghosts, something Dongmin also stored away uselessly in his mind).

And all the while, Dongmin continued to become steadily more drunk.

It wasn't as if he _wanted_ to drink himself into oblivion. Myungjun was already working on that, drinking enough for all four of them, probably, glaring holes in the side of Jinwoo's head as he drank. Probably because Bin was smiling so warmly at the model and paying little attention at all to his roommate.

(Dongmin would have joined Myungjun in the glaring, but he was still a little sore that Jinwoo was _straight,_ so he couldn't very well be upset with Bin.)

He pushed one of his many empty soju bottles aside. His eyesight was dizzying and his head felt light and airy.

“Have you had enough to drink yet, Dongmin?”

Jinwoo's voice, low and deep and clear, was the first thing Dongmin heard as he attempted to pour himself another cup.

“No _pe_ ,” he responded, lips smacking the word out. “Not enough.” Being blackout drunk hadn't been his goal, but when Jinwoo smiled at him, Dongmin wondered if it would be a preferable evening, rather than sitting by and watching as the man he loved talked about his favorite _female_ celebrities and _female_ idols and commented to Bin at one point, “That girl over there is my type.”

(Bin had responded, “Ooh, she is hot,” and Dongmin had been _certain_ that Myungjun would kill the girl if he was able to stand up without keeling over.)

Before he could actually consume any of his new bottle of soju, however, Jinwoo reached over and snatched it from his hands. Dongmin whined, trying to grab it back, but Jinwoo was very good at keeping things away. Either that, or Dongmin was too drunk to actually be trying properly.

“Bin, does Dongmin usually drink this much?”

“I'm not really sure,” Bin admitted, and his eyes traveled over to Myungjun, who was pitifully slumped over the table. “Usually it's just Myungjun and Dongmin. They don't invite me. I think they secretly make fun of me during these outings.”

Myungjun groaned and looked up at Bin. “Like you would fucking care if we did,” he slurred out his words.

“I can say for a _fact_ , though, that Myungjun never comes home _this_ drunk. He's embarrassing me.”

Myungjun decided it was best to not look at Bin after all, and so he buried his face back into his arms, giving a muffled cry of, “I wish _you_ would embarrass _me_.”

Dongmin couldn't help the snort he gave as he ceased his efforts to steal back his soju. “He embarrasses himself,” Dongmin pointed out.

Fortunately, Jinwoo grinned and Bin seemed to love the joke. He scoffed and nudged Myungjun harshly, fueled by alcohol and atmosphere. “You hear that, Hyung? It's true, too. The other day, Jinwoo-hyung, he came out of his room and I told him good morning and he tripped and got a carpet burn on his knee. He _always_ does stuff like that, too! Especially in the morning.”

“Because you don't wear a shirt,” Dongmin mumbled. He thought it was quiet enough that it would only be for himself, but Bin managed to pick up on the words.

(Dongmin wondered if Bin had super hearing alongside his weird super-smelling powers.)

“Excuse me?”

Jinwoo glanced over at Dongmin, as well, his eyes wide and alert. He gestured discreetly in Myungjun's direction and gave a short shake of his head, a clear sign to _not_ continue.

Dongmin was determined to keep his friend's secret, but it was very difficult to keep his story straight when he was so tipsy.

“He...does that when you don't wear a shirt,” Dongmin said. “And you don't wear a shirt in the mornings, because you don't sleep with one. It makes him, um...it makes him panicked. Because, you know, he's gay, and so he doesn't know what to do.”

Even Myungjun, in his drunken stupor, was listening, picking his head up and blinking in confusion at what Dongmin was explaining.

“I know he's gay,” Bin replied. “But, come on, that'd be like Jinwoo losing his shit whenever he saw a...a girl. Or...boobs, I don't know, do you lose your shit whenever you see boobs, Jinwoo?”

Now all eyes were on _Jinwoo_ , who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Well-” he started, but as chaotic as the situation had become, he didn't have much of a chance to complete his statement.

Myungjun reached out, hand shaking, and pointed an accusing finger in Dongmin's direction. “If you tell Binnie _anything_ , I'll fucking kill you,” he warned.

“Tell me what?” Bin forwent his interrogation of Jinwoo's sexual preferences in order to tune into the threats Myungjun was delivering out. “What is there to tell me, Myungjun? Is it something embarrassing again? Ooh, Dongmin, if it's something embarrassing, you _really_ need to tell me!” His eyes sparkled with mischief. “What did my sweet Myungjunnie do this time?”

Even if Dongmin had plans to ruin Myungjun's life, even if he _wanted_ to ruin Myungjun's life, he didn't have to do a thing. Myungjun seemed determined to ruin his own life.

“ _I_ didn't do anything!” Myungjun blurted out. He reached for his alcohol, but, like Jinwoo, Bin was quicker than a tiny, drunk man. “It's all _your_ fault! It's you and your stupid – your stupid _sleep_ and your shirt off and your-your body!” At this point, Bin had lost his smile, something akin to recognition bubbling about in his gaze. “An-And you have the _gall_ , Binnie, to bring other guys over for the night, and i-if I'm there, you introduce me as, _my best friend_.”

It was silent then, and Dongmin wondered if Myungjun would continue. It appeared he was gathering his thoughts, though, a tongue darting out to lick at his dry lips as Bin continued to stare.

“Myungjun,” Jinwoo warned, and Dongmin felt a pang of jealousy course through him, because when had _they_ gotten close enough for Jinwoo to look out for his well-being?

Now he _wanted_ Myungjun to ruin his own life. In his alcohol-fueled mind, that was the best option for someone who had the potential to steal Jinwoo away from him.

Myungjun didn't heed Jinwoo's concerns, and he continued his tirade. “Am I not good enough for you?” he whined, bouncing in his seat. “Why don't you fuck _me_ , Binnie?”

“Oh my god,” Jinwoo breathed, covering his mouth with his hands and looking absolutely shocked.

(Dongmin took the tense moment to steal his soju back.)

“We're...friends,” Bin responded, his voice cracking. “And friends-”

“You're friends with the other guys! You see them one night, and then they're gone! And you see me all the time and I think we'd be _perfect_ , god, Bin, why are you so _dumb_ , why do you _hate me?_ ” And then he was crying, big, ugly tears that rolled down his cheeks as he cradled his bottle of alcohol close to his chest. “You'll never love me!” he sobbed out. “An-And I've loved you for _ever_ , with all my heart, and you just...” His words trailed off into an incomprehensible mess, spluttering and muttering out phrases here and there that only made a smidgen of sense. Bin sat there, looking absolutely dumbfounded from the unwarranted confession, and he probably wouldn't have moved from his spot if Jinwoo hadn't lightly nudged him.

“He's drunk,” Jinwoo supplied. “Doesn't know what he's saying, probably. Um...maybe you should take him home so he can sleep? If he stays here, he'll drink more and it might turn messier than this.”

Jinwoo seemed to snap Bin out of his daze, and he stood hurriedly. “Right!” he exclaimed. “It's...yeah, it's the alcohol talking. I'll just...I'll take him home and, um, and we won't talk about this ever again, because it was only the alcohol, right?” He didn't wait for Jinwoo's confirmation. He simply (awkwardly) helped Myungjun from his own chair, hoisting him up and hooking an arm around his waist. There was a distance there suddenly, one that Dongmin had never before seen between Bin and Myungjun, and he felt pity for his friends.

As they hobbled off after bidding farewell to the group (Myungjun still crying all the while), Dongmin sipped at the soju he took from Jinwoo. Myungjun most likely wouldn't remember what all had happened, and if no one told him, he would have to go about life with Bin acting like _that_ , with Bin hesitating and stumbling over his words.

Poor Myungjun.

But it wasn't Dongmin's problem at the moment. _His_ problem was staring at him, eyes narrowed when he noticed the bottle of soju.

“Dongmin?”

“Hm?”

“You don't normally drink that much, do you?”

“Neither here nor there.”

“It's definitely here.” Jinwoo sighed loudly and ran his fingers through his hair, messy, silver locks twirling around his long fingers.

Dongmin licked his own lips, but for entirely different reasons than Myungjun had.

“I guess I have to drag you home, as well.”

“Oh, don't worry about that.” Dongmin wasn't in the mood to have a situation similar to Myungjun's, and so he stood up from the table. “I can walk home perfectly-”

He fell backwards, tumbling into the lap of some nicely-dressed businessman, who only laughed off Jinwoo's apologies.

And, ironically enough, he found himself in a situation similar to Myungjun's.

( _Poor me_ , he thought as he noticed the distance Jinwoo tried to put between them.)

“Can you believe,” Jinwoo started, obviously trying to make small-talk of sorts in order to lessen just how _awkward_ the situation had become, “that Myungjun said all of that? I mean, I know he's drunk and people say and do stupid shit when they're drunk, but...that was bold.”

It was very bold. Myungjun had always been bold, though. Not when it came to admitting his romantic feelings, but blurting out something so stupid was just such a _Myungjun_ thing to do. He knew what he wanted, and he was determined to get it. It might have taken a bit of alcohol to jump start his courage, but at least he _said_ something.

Dongmin didn't pity him any longer. Dongmin envied him, instead. He wished he had gotten drunk enough to blurt out what exactly he thought of Jinwoo, because even if Jinwoo was straight, at least he could release the feelings he kept bottled up inside of his chest for so long.

“By the way, where exactly do you live?”

Dongmin gestured aimlessly down the street, and Jinwoo huffed.

“You can't keep doing that. I need an address, Dongmin.”

But giving out his address would mean that Jinwoo would take him home. It would mean Jinwoo would drop him off and say goodnight and then their evening would be over with. If he played too drunk to know, perhaps he could stay with Jinwoo for just a little while longer. Perhaps he could pretend to be sobering up, and then the address could come after Jinwoo sat him down in an empty park and stared up at the stars with him.

So he mumbled out a string of numbers, then paused and shook his head. “No,” he mumbled, “That's not it.”

He was already drunk, so pretending to be a little _more_ drunk wasn't too much of a stretch.

Jinwoo sighed, and as Dongmin had desired, he stopped, gently setting them both down on a nearby bench. It wasn't in a park and it faced a road with shops nearby, their signs brightly illuminated, but if Dongmin was pretending to be drunk, he could pretend the ramen shop nearby, with its large _Open_ sign, was the moon, and all the smaller ones surrounding it were the stars. He could pretend the few cars that passed were some sort of park equipment. Maybe a slide, maybe some swings.

(Never mind why, in his imagination, they were moving.)

He could pretend that Jinwoo was hugging him and kissing his neck and that this was all a _real_ date.

“Why do you have to be straight?” he moaned out.

“Excuse me?”

In his efforts to make pretend everything was perfect, he hadn't actually put a check on the words coming from his mouth. He was too preoccupied with imagining his fake date, and his brain decided to say the one thing that had been on his mind for days.

He felt stiff, and he glanced over at Jinwoo in panic.

“Uh,” he smartly answered.

“What do you mean by that?”

Dongmin swallowed thickly. Jinwoo didn't look mad; he looked inquisitive, curious, his head cocked to its side and his eyebrows raised.

If Dongmin answered him, maybe he could play it off as his drunken stupor. Maybe he could act oblivious to it all come morning, and while he was pretending, he could pretend he never said anything. Besides, if Myungjun could ruin _his_ own life, then Dongmin was perfectly capable of following in his steps under the clever guise of alcohol.

“Straight,” he repeated. “Why do you have to be _straight_?” Jinwoo wasn't responding. He still looked confused, so Dongmin expanded on his question. “I want a guy with a big dog. _You're_ a guy with a big dog. Or...I assume you have a big dog.”

“You've seen my dog.”

Oh. Right. They needed to be talking about a _dog_. Dongmin cleared his throat. “Then, then, yeah, you're a man with a big dog. And...and you're _perfect_ , I think.” He detected a blush rising to Jinwoo's cheeks, and he hurried his compliments along. “You're attractive an-and sweet and smart and funny and nice- and you're _straight!_ ” He buried his face into his hands and wailed out, “Myungjun said you were gay, and he's never wrong, but now he's _wrong_ and I'm _miserable!_ ”

He felt like crying, just as Myungjun had, because he never had a chance with the one man he had fallen head over heels for. And after this outburst, Jinwoo would leave him, most likely. He would probably start seeing another vet and then Dongmin would be forced to work in clear view of that stupid billboard, of the stupid shirtless, seductive picture of Jinwoo, and he would always be reminded of his own stupidity and the rejection he had received.

Suddenly, he wished he was Myungjun. At least Bin was far from being _straight_.

“You and...you and Myungjun discussed my sexuality?”

Out of all of the things to be shocked about, Dongmin wasn't sure why Jinwoo chose _that_ one. Dongmin had just confessed to him, after all. Surely Jinwoo would have been more concerned with love than with two friends talking about whether or not people they met were gay. Dongmin blinked up, peering from his hands, and asked, “Is that a problem?”

“No, it's...it's not. That's fine. You guys can do that.” Jinwoo seemed anxious, if his awkward hand movements and wringing were anything to go by.

“Are...are you okay?”

“You're drunk out of your mind. I think I should be asking _you_ that question,” Jinwoo mumbled.

Dongmin wouldn't deny that, if only because he had already pretended he was drunk out of his mind. It was easy enough to keep up with at this point.

Jinwoo didn't stop talking, though. Jinwoo leaned back in the seat and he stared up at the sky, at the _actual_ moon, at the dimly lit stars, and he murmured, “My mom told me it was a phase.”

Dongmin went silent. He felt like he could hardly breathe, watching this gorgeous man in front of him spill some sort of secret, something that he would only entrust to someone who was drunk out of his mind.

“She said...when I grew up, I wouldn't want to kiss boys anymore.”

Someone sucker-punched Dongmin in his heart. “You're gay?”

“Was,” Jinwoo corrected.

“I might be drunk out of my mind, but I don't think being gay is something you grow out of.”

It was something bold to say, something Myungjun might have applauded him for, and Dongmin waited for some sort of reply. Jinwoo didn't remove his gaze from far up above him, though, and after a minute passed, Dongmin was ready to give up.

But then he heard a whisper, hushed and nervous: “Am?”

“What?”

“ _Am_...gay,” was Jinwoo's answer. “I am.”

A car passed. Dongmin squinted from the bright headlights and he waited until it was gone to open his eyes fully again. “Why did you tell me that you were straight, then? Why...why did you let me believe that you _weren't_ into guys?”

Jinwoo finally looked away from the stars and he cleared his throat, spreading his feet out in front of him. “Because you like me.”

“What?”

“You're obvious, Dongmin. And Myungjun already informed me, anyway.”

Dongmin wanted to ruin Myungjun's life again.

“We-Well, what does me liking you have...have anything to do with it?” Dongmin realized that if he _was_ truly drunk out of his mind, he probably wouldn't have acted so unsure of his own words. But Jinwoo was too conflicted to actually catch on, so it went by unnoticed.

“Because – thank _god_ you're too drunk to remember this – because, um, then I would kiss you, since it would be a consensual kiss, and...and then it wouldn't be a phase anymore. Then it would be _real_ , Dongmin. I'd _really_ be kissing you, and it...I don't know. I'm gay, I guess, but...” He trailed off, ignoring the way Dongmin stared at him in concern.

“But you like me?” Dongmin whispered.

Jinwoo nodded his head.

“Then...if we both like each other, does it matter? We'll both be gay together.”

Jinwoo barked out laughter, and when he finally glanced again at Dongmin, his eyes held mirth in them rather than confusion. “You're so fucking drunk,” he commented. “What are the chances of you remembering any of this tomorrow morning, anyway?”

Dongmin held out a hand. He wiggled his fingers, waiting for Jinwoo to notice – and then Jinwoo, smiling all the while, reached over and held his hands.

He had long, slender fingers and a strong grip. Dongmin quite enjoyed holding Jinwoo's hand.

“You don't remember your house number yet, do you?” Jinwoo asked.

“No _pe_.” The word popped out of Dongmin's mouth, a small grin on his face.

“Ah.” Jinwoo giggled. “So...so you won't remember us holding hands?”

“Nope.”

Dongmin would never forget holding Jinwoo's hand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH SO ITS REVEALED and stupidly so, im sorry its lame, but i like writing lame.
> 
> hmu with dollar billas [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	7. medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He tried to remain nonchalant as Jinwoo asked, “Dongmin, are you sure you don't remember anything from last night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im running out of m-words for the titles

When Dongmin blearily blinked open his eyes that morning, he discovered, not for the first time, the joy of being hungover. His head ached and his mouth felt completely dry. He cursed his drunk self. He _knew_ he had limits, and yet he knowingly and willingly drank far more than he was able to.

He must not have taken the time to put on his pajamas, either; he felt a phone vibrate by his thigh, and he groggily reached into his pocket to pick it up.

That's when he realized he wasn't at home.

Home consisted of a small bedroom with everything neatly organized and in its place. Home didn't have too many wall decorations or furnishings throughout. Home was more monochromatic with a sense of elegance and class.

 _This_ was different. It was clean, a nice and tidy bedroom, but it certainly looked far more lived in than Dongmin's looked. The dresser to the side was open slightly at the top drawer, and a few stuffed animals rested on top. There was a bookshelf stationed against the wall, though upon closer inspection, it was riddled with CDs rather than actual _books_. And nearby was also a desk, a few papers atop of it next to a closed laptop, light still blinking from being charged.

The bed was soft. It didn't smell like Dongmin's bed back home. It carried the smell of laundry detergent and a man's perfume that Dongmin had only recognized before from one person.

 _Jinwoo_.

He was in Jinwoo's bedroom.

His mind went into full panic mode, and he quickly sat up to assess the area in further detail, and to implore his memories as to _how_ he had arrived in this position. His headache was forgotten as he tore the covers off of him and ensured that he was actually wearing the clothes he had put on yesterday.

He was. Nothing was taken off of him.

Then _what_ was he doing in Jinwoo's bed?

He felt his phone vibrate again, and he quickly grabbed it this time, checking the number.

_Myungjun._

At the very least, he could remember _most_ of last night, of Myungjun's blurted confession and Bin dragging him home and Jinwoo-

What did Jinwoo do with him? He admitted he wasn't exactly straight, but then what?

He answered the phone – it was doubtful Myungjun would have any answers, but it certainly didn't hurt to try.

“Dongmin!” Myungjun's voice screeched through to Dongmin's ear, and he held his device away from him. “Dongmin, what happened last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ just that!” Myungjun huffed.

“How do you not have a hangover? After all you drank-”

“I feel like fucking death, Dongmin, but more important than that – Binnie isn't talking to me.”

Ah. Of course. Dongmin didn't have time, really, to deal with his best friend's ruined love life. He needed to figure out what was going in with his _own_ life. “Look, I think we'll have to meet up to discuss that, because it's a long story.”

“Short version, then.”

Dongmin sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. It was greasy, and he grimaced. “Short version,” he started, “begins with you talking about Bin shirtless and ends with you begging Bin to fuck you.” There was silence on the other end, and Dongmin added, “With a love confession thrown in the middle. And I have no idea what went on after that, because Bin took you home.”

Myungjun was still silent, and Dongmin didn't know if that was any better than a loud, screaming Myungjun. Better for his _head_ , really, but when he was reminded of Myungjun's pitiful situation, his _heart_ felt a small burst of pain, instead.

Poor Myungjun.

“Myungjun-”

“I...I have to go.” Myungjun was no longer screeching into the phone. “Um...I have to go. Sorry.”

He hung up before Dongmin could get another word in. Just as well, too, because Dongmin wasn't entirely certain what he was supposed to say to comfort Myungjun. He couldn't assure that Bin wouldn't care, and he couldn't claim that Bin returned Myungjun's feelings. It was just a messy situation, and only Myungjun and Bin could resolve it themselves.

Besides that, Dongmin couldn't really help Myungjun with _that_ issue when he had yet to help himself.

He took a deep breath before standing up. His head spun a little bit, but he allowed himself a minute or two to retain his balance, then he continued forward, peeking out from the bedroom door in curiosity.

It looked like an apartment. In any case, there were only two other closed doors in the hallway Dongmin was peering out of, with a living room of sorts toward the end. It was still nice, with clean floors and bright lights (though, at the moment, Dongmin could have done without those lights).

“He-Hello?” he called out softly, hands gripping at the entryway. He didn't want to move – he had watched far too many dramas to understand there was a possibility of a shirtless Jinwoo in the kitchen or coming out from a bathroom somewhere. At least, that was what _normally_ happened.

(Never mind the fact that he already knew what Jinwoo looked like shirtless. Never mind the fact that he really liked what Jinwoo looked like shirtless.)

Fortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. Instead, he heard Jinwoo respond, yelling down the hall, “I'm in here, Dongmin!”

That seemed like an invitation to actually leave the room he was cowering in, and so Dongmin scurried forward.

His shoes were gone. His socks were still on his feet, though.

He wished he had actually checked on his image before showing himself in front of Jinwoo, though. Jinwoo looked _good_. His hair was down, flat on his head, brushing across his eyebrows. He wore glasses and a hoodie with sleeves that were too long, and sweatpants that reached past his heels.

He was cute.

Dongmin almost wished it was a shirtless Jinwoo instead. He was _used_ to that. He wasn't used to such a soft, handsome, adorable Jinwoo.

“Good morning, Dongmin!” Jinwoo greeted, smiling up at him.

He was in the kitchen, separated from the living room by a few counters and tiled floor. He appeared to be preparing _something_ or other, a few vegetables chopped up in a bowl and the stove turned on, water already beginning to boil. Dongmin stared at the scene in confusion before glancing back at Jinwoo. “Wha-What's...what's this?”

“Hangover soup,” Jinwoo replied. “Because you drank a _lot_ last night.”

“Yeah.” His headache had yet to fully subside. “Um...why am I _here?_ ”

Jinwoo smirked, seemingly pleased at something or other, and he gestured over to his front door. “I dragged you here. The evening was rough, and I doubt you remember most of it, but after Myungjun and Bin left, I tried to take you home, but you were too drunk to remember your address. I sat you on the bench, went to get water to try and sober you up, and when I came back, you were asleep. You wouldn't wake up, and so I just dragged you to my place, since it was closest.” He turned from his food preparation and flexed the muscles in his arm. “I'm stronger than I look!”

Dongmin knew _that_ much – he had seen Jinwoo's fine six-pack on the billboard.

“Nothing else happened, then?” he questioned. “I mean, before I, um, fell asleep? Nothing _weird_ happened?”

And Dongmin knew _what_ had happened. He was just curious how much Jinwoo would deny, how much was only supposed to be given to someone who was too drunk to recall those words.

“Myungjun confessed to Bin, and he got taken home. You'll probably have to get more information out of Bin, though.”

“No, but...nothing happened between us?”

Dongmin swore that he saw the tips of Jinwoo's ears turn red.

“You really _don't_ remember anything, do you?”

Dongmin didn't respond. He wasn't willing to lie to Jinwoo, so he instead remained silent, shrugging his shoulders nervously and acting as if he was indifferent to it all.

But Jinwoo's gaze was searching for answers, and Dongmin needed to speak, less he raise suspicions.

“I don't remember falling asleep,” he mumbled.

Now Jinwoo's cheeks were red. “So you, um, you remember-”

“Why don't I help you with this?” Dongmin rushed forward, plastering a small smile on his face. If Jinwoo wanted everything to remain a secret, Dongmin would do so. He would keep it all under wraps and pretend he was none the wiser. “It'll go faster if it's two people working on it instead of one.”

Jinwoo seemed confused, and he raised his eyebrows. “Well...it's for hangovers and you have a hangover, so I can just-”

“It's not so bad.” Dongmin lightly pushed Jinwoo away from the vegetables, grabbing the knife himself and positioning the onion Jinwoo had already taken out. “It's not bad enough that I'm going to force _you_ to make all of the food.”

Jinwoo didn't say anything. He still just stared, and Dongmin could feel the gaze boring into him. He tried to remain nonchalant as Jinwoo asked, “Dongmin, are you _sure_ you don't remember anything from last night?”

Dongmin chopped up some of the onions, trying to recall exactly how he used to make hangover soup for Bin when they were younger. It seemed that Jinwoo already had the bones boiling in water to fix a broth, so all that was left was gathering the correct ingredients.

But Jinwoo was still awaiting an answer, so Dongmin smiled softly at him.

“I remember as much as you would like for me to remember.”

He returned to his task, and Jinwoo gave a frustrated huff. “That doesn't explain anything. It was a yes or no question.”

Dongmin hummed. Jinwoo sighed this time. “I think you remember it all.”

“Possibly.”

“You seemed too chipper to _not_ remember it all.”

Dongmin couldn't hide his smile, and he glanced over at Jinwoo's hand. It had been warm last night when he held it. Warm and gentle, and it fit _perfectly_ around Dongmin's hand. It was more rough, more calloused, which Dongmin assumed was from Jinwoo's daily gym visits, and yet it felt pleasant to Dongmin's far softer skin.

He wanted to hold Jinwoo's hand every single night.

“You're _smiling!_ ” Jinwoo pointed out, accusingly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I spilled a big secret to you because I thought you wouldn't remember, and you're _smiling_ about it!”

Jinwoo looked _so cute_ , Dongmin decided, with his sweater paws and his glasses and the blush spreading across his face. Dongmin stammered out his next words, too awed by the sight of the gorgeous man in front of him to speak properly. “I-I-I didn't _mean_ to make you tell, nor did I mean to remember. It's...it stuck. It's one of those things.”

It was one of those things that stuck with him, when an attractive model explained that he was straight and that he _knew_ of Dongmin's infatuation and held his hand under the night sky.

“So you know that I'm... _not_ straight?”

Dongmin nodded his head. “I mean...I thought there would have been a possibility that maybe I wouldn't remember, and I'm sorry if you didn't mean for me to know. I won't...I won't do anything with the information, I'll just – we can continue how it has been, if you want. It doesn't matter to me. I mean, you already know _I'm_ not straight, either, and everything was-”

Jinwoo knew how to make Dongmin stop talking with a well-timed _shh_ , and a finger over Dongmin's lips. The older boy smiled lightly, then shook his head. “I trust you, Dongmin. And I know you won't tell anyone.”

Dongmin's heart hammered in his chest. First they held hands, then Jinwoo's finger actually touched his _face_ , pressed against his lips, and it was more than Dongmin had ever hoped for.

“Though, if it's something that won't change, if it's something that _isn't_ a phase, I suppose others might start to catch on one day.”

He removed his finger from Dongmin's lips. Dongmin had only wanted to say something along the lines of _they might_ , or _perhaps if you want them to catch on_. Instead what came out was what his mind had been thinking: “Only if you start dating a man.”

When Jinwoo smiled, clearly amused, Dongmin hurried back to chopping the onions, cursing his stupid mouth and his inability to think before he spoke.

“Of course,” Jinwoo mumbled, “if I start dating a man, I think others will realize I'm not as straight as they thought I was.”

Dongmin nodded his head, but he didn't speak this time. If he could keep his mouth shut, everything might go smoothly for the rest of the morning.

Jinwoo seemed to take the lack of response as a cue to continue cooking, and he chuckled as he went back to preparing the soup. They worked like this, in a relaxed silence, until Jinwoo suddenly grabbed a stool from one of the counters and pulled it to his cupboards.

“Sorry,” he apologized, climbing up on it. “There's a spice I need up here, though.”

Dongmin glanced up at the cabinet Jinwoo was positioned at. “I can reach it,” he pointed out.

“No, I can-”

“You're using a stool.”

Jinwoo furrowed his eyebrows, but he didn't let Dongmin try to reach. He opened the cabinet instead-

And then Dongmin grabbed the spice.

“I told you,” Dongmin said, “that I can reach it.”

“I _know_. I know you're freakishly tall.”

“I wouldn't say _freakishly_.”

“I'm the one looking up at you. Trust me, you're freakishly tall.”

As Jinwoo put the stool back in its position, Dongmin instructed his mind to _not_ say what he was thinking (which was something along the lines of, _maybe you're just freakishly short_ ). And he actually did a good job at following through with that request, but the more he thought about the scene that had just played out, Jinwoo using a stool to reach what Dongmin could grab on his tip-toes, the more hilarious it became.

His snicker didn't go unheard.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No!” Dongmin reassured. “I wouldn't laugh at you!”

Jinwoo wasn't convinced. He scurried over to Dongmin's side, eying him closely. “It sure looked like it.”

“You're mistaken.”

But Jinwoo didn't seem _mad_. He looked pleased, if the smile tugging at his lips was anything to go by. And up close, too, he was all the more attractive, especially with his eyes turned up into crescents behind his glasses, which were fogging over from the steam of his soup.

“I had been texting Myungjun, and he told me you _acted_ all prim and proper, but you're actually a, and I quote, _fucking jerk_. Is this what he meant?”

Now Dongmin didn't feel pity for Myungjun and his pathetic love life.

“Myungjun is simply jealous,” Dongmin scoffed.

“Of what?”

Dongmin wasn't quite sure _what_ Myungjun would be jealous of. Sure, he was pretty, but Myungjun had his own handsome and unique charms. And, sure, he was smart, but there was a reason Myungjun was a vet and Dongmin just the receptionist. And, sure, maybe Dongmin had a better chance with Jinwoo than Myungjun did with Bin, but-

Okay, that was probably ( _definitely_ ) what Myungjun was jealous of. “Us,” Dongmin blurted out, without fully stopping to realize the implications of his statement. “And what we have as opposed to what he has with Bin.”

Jinwoo stopped his teasing to back up a little bit, his eyes wide. “What does _that_ mean?” he asked.

The connotations of it were clear; Dongmin believed he had a good chance with Jinwoo. However, actually explaining that _to_ Jinwoo was a lot more difficult than just thinking it.

“We, um...s-so Myungjun only...he does _platonic_ things with, um, with Bin. Things that Bin does with me, he does with Myungjun. So...late-night hand holding under the stars isn't...”

Dongmin's words trailed off, and so Jinwoo picked up his train of thoughts. “That was romantic to you?”

Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Dongmin wasn't fantastic at gauging expressions, and he wasn't quite sure what all was floating through Jinwoo's mind. “I had assumed-”

“Because you were drunk.”

“But it wasn't-”

“And you couldn't even remember your apartment number.”

“Actually, I-”

“And you fell asleep shortly after.”

“If I could _finish_ , I could explain!” Dongmin fussed. He left the onions alone, far more interested in clearing up his words. “I meant to say that _Myungjun_ would have found that romantic if it had been him and Bin.”

Jinwoo didn't look convinced. “So you didn't find it romantic?”

He had found it romantic. Even if he had been swaying in his seat from the alcohol, and even if there were a few cars that passed, ruining the illusion in Dongmin's mind of a cute, empty park, it _had_ been romantic. But was he able to just say that? Could he blurt out anymore before Jinwoo got awkward and nervous around him, quite like how Myungjun and Bin were with each other?

But at least Myungjun _said_ something. Dongmin always skirted around the subject, hiding behind a polite and indifferent demeanor. He was more pathetic than Myungjun was at this point.

He needed to be bold.

“I did,” he mumbled. “And...and one day, I would like to hold your hand again, if you'd want to hold hands with me anymore after this. If not, it's alright.”

Jinwoo already knew that Dongmin had a crush on him; Myungjun (the idiot) made sure of that. So why was it too far of a stretch for him to believe that Dongmin found gestures like that romantic? Holding hands, close proximity, cooking together – it was all so domestic and sweet, and Dongmin could make believe that Jinwoo returned those romantic thoughts. Jinwoo liked him, didn't he? At least, a little bit. At least, that was what he said. At least, that was what Dongmin had  __thought.

He didn't dare glance in Jinwoo's direction, however. He cleared his throat and reached for the knife-

Jinwoo's hand caught his own.

Dongmin stared down at it in surprise, watching as Jinwoo's fingers threaded through with Dongmin's, feeling the slight squeeze, relishing in the absolute warmth that Jinwoo's hand provided.

“We can't finish the soup if we're holding hands,” Jinwoo whispered. “So maybe this was a bad idea.”

“No,” Dongmin quickly assured him, and he moved from the counter and smiled brightly at Jinwoo. “I think this will heal me better than the soup would.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS HELLA LAME BUT (shrug emoji)
> 
> i actually love jincha a lot now from writing this fic. not more than myungjin (bc what can beat THAT) but jincha is really lovely ;A;
> 
> hmu [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com).


	8. missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongmin thought back to their connected hands and content expressions. He thought back to the smell of breakfast and coffee, the light conversation they had as they sat around Jinwoo's dining room table, and the sounds of the birds chirping away near the windowsills. It had been nice, headache and dry mouth aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are we finally getting cute jincha bc of confessions???

Myungjun was late to work.

Myungjun was _never_ late. It wasn't in his blood to be late (so he had claimed). Myungjun was energized and excited and always quite prepared to arrive to work on time. He rivaled Dongmin in terms of punctuality.

So the fact that he was _late_ was a little disconcerting.

Dongmin checked the time on his watch – 9:15 AM.

He checked his phone next and discovered no texts or missed calls from Myungjun.

He debated whether or not to actually call his boss, twirling the phone slightly in his hand. They didn't have appointments that morning, but there _was_ a walk-in who was waiting to see about a pregnant cat he had found.

Dongmin met his gaze and smiled nervously. “The vet will be available in just a little bit,” he assured the impatient client. “I'm sure there's a reason he's running behind.”

9:20 AM.

Dongmin finally decided to send a text, frantic and with a large amount of exclamation points in order to fully explain the dire situation they were in. Their vet practice would go under if Myungjun was _this_ late on a consistent basis, especially if he didn't first explain where he was.

Just as he hit the _enter_ button, sending the text off to Myungjun, the front door opened.

“Hey, Dongmin,” Myungjun greeted, looking exhausted and frazzled. “Sorry. Had my alarm set as if I was at _my_ apartment.” He smoothed his hair down and cleared his throat. “Do I have anybody?”

Dongmin blinked in confusion, but he gestured to the man, anyway. “Just a cat. A checkup, basically. But, uh, if you're not at your apartment, then where are you?”

Myungjun didn't answer that. He simply bowed to the man and apologized profusely for his tardiness. “You can meet me in that back room,” he explained, pointing down the hall. “I'll just grab what I need and come in. Sorry.”

Dongmin waited until the client was out of earshot before inquiring about the situation once again. “You didn't respond; where were you? Did you sleep somewhere else?”

Myungjun gave a small scowl and continued to straighten out his clothes in order to make himself more presentable. “Do you really think I can stay at my apartment?” He sounded frustrated and lost, and Dongmin bit his lip. “Bin refuses to go elsewhere, and I'm not going to force us to be together after what...what I said. Minhyuk's letting me stay at his place, but it's farther away and so I woke up thinking I could get here in a ten minute walk.”

“You're staying with _Minhyuk?_ ”

“What's with that tone?”

“I mean...you could have asked to stay with me. But _Minhyuk?_ ”

“You like Minhyuk. Besides-” Myungjun grabbed the file Dongmin had put together for the new patient and flipped through it for a few seconds, “-Minhyuk doesn't ask as many questions as you do, so it was a lot more simple to just room with him.”

It was true; at times like this, Myungjun usually preferred to be left alone, which fit in very well with Minhyuk's quieter personality. Dongmin liked to try and offer comfort and company, which Myungjun would have most likely reacted negatively to.

“Are you okay, though?” he asked cautiously.

Myungjun snorted. “This is why I'm staying with Minhyuk,” he mumbled. “He doesn't ask stupid questions he already knows the answer to.”

It was a small slight, but Dongmin didn't take it personally. He just watched sadly as his best friend disappeared down the hallway.

And then he decided to take matters into his own hands.

Sure, Bin was _another_ one of his best friends, but it didn't excuse the fact that Myungjun's feelings were being trampled upon. Bin should have been rejecting him kindly, not engaging in some sort of childish response such as the silent treatment after having been confessed to.

He made certain he wouldn't be heard, that no other clients were set to come in for a while, and then quickly dialed Bin's number, eyes darting back to the hallway from time to time just on the off-chance Myungjun would come out from that room.

Bin answered, voice groggy. “Hello?”

“Bin, what's going on with you and Myungjun?”

There was shuffling on the other end, a small yawn, and then, “Good morning to you, too, Dongmin.”

“He's sleeping over at Minhyuk's?”

“Yeah.”

Bin seemed rather unashamed, and Dongmin struggled to retain his anger. How was he supposed to fuss at someone who viewed the situation as nothing but casual? “Is this because he told you that he-”

“Look, it was _his_ decision to go off to Minhyuk's place. I didn't say anything to him.”

“That's just it, though – you didn't say anything! You could at least let him down nicely, Binnie. You could at least ask if it's fine if you two remain friends!” Dongmin didn't know why all of his friends were acting like idiots. “If you just keep silent like this, it's obvious that he'll feel too awkward to be around you, which is what I'm assuming happened last night, right?”

“You think I should turn him down?”

Really, Dongmin wasn't sure why he had to be the motherly figure of all of his friends. He had _thought_ they could figure these things out for themselves. “ _Yes_ , Bin. If you don't like him back, then you'll have to turn him down. You can't just pretend it never happened when he knows now that it did.”

There was silence on the other end. Bin wasn't even moving or sighing as he would have normally done. It was pure silence.

“Bin?”

“I don't think I _want_ to turn him down.”

“Well, you can't just hide from him. If you don't like him, you need to let him know.”

“If I _don't_ like him?”

“Yes.”

But Dongmin hadn't thought before he confirmed Bin's statement. His hand gripped the phone tighter as his brain worked on processing through exactly what it was that Bin had implied.

He gasped when he figured it out. “Wait, _Bin_ – you like Myungjun?” Bin's second bout of silence was all Dongmin needed as affirmation, and he gasped again. “Oh my god, _Bin_ , you _like_ Myungjun?”

“No. I don't know. I don't _think_ so.” Bin scoffed over the phone. “He's my friend, more than anything else. And I miss him, so I think that's messing with my head right now and making me _think_ I might like him more.”

Dongmin really didn't understand why feelings had to be so complicated. He was a dreamer, and he followed his heart.

(And, in turn, he found Jinwoo.)

“But...then you _don't_ like him?”

Bin groaned, voice low and rumbling, then asked, “Can you just tell him to come back? If I have him nearby, I'll be able to tell.”

“Okay.”

“But I don't even think, even if I _did_ like him, I would ever be with him. Myungjun likes...he likes _relationships_. He likes these long-term commitment type of things. You know how he is, Dongmin, don't you?”

“Oh, come off it. I know you're a romantic.”

“Well, yeah, but I get bored too easily! It's why I keep bringing different guys over to my place. Getting involved would just mean I have nothing new and exciting to look forward to.”

Dongmin grimaced; he hadn't wanted to discuss Bin's sex life so early in the morning. “Myungjun is exciting, though,” he pointed out. “You haven't gotten bored of living with him yet, have you?”

Bin gave the only honest answer Dongmin knew he could. “No, but what if I _do?_ ”

“Then at least you tried, instead of tossing his feelings aside and ignoring him.”

Dongmin liked to think that he gave pretty solid advice sometimes. Besides, _he_ had tried. He had admitted his own feelings to Jinwoo (he counted it as a confession, even though Myungjun had apparently spilled the beans first), and now he felt more pleased with his love life than he had since-

Well, since forever.

He was certain that the same would be true for others. If Bin could give Myungjun a chance, perhaps their relationship would actually work out. Perhaps Bin would discover that having someone you truly loved meant that every day would be new and exciting.

Bin sighed and then said, “Look, I need to go. I'll talk to you later, alright? I'll figure this out if Myungjun decides to stop avoiding me and come home.”

Dongmin didn't get a chance to bid his friend goodbye before the line went dead.

He rolled his eyes as he set his phone back down on the counter. Bin was an idiot, and Myungjun was an idiot for actually falling in love with such an idiot.

Which made Dongmin feel all the more justified in deciding that all of his friends were idiots.

“Not you, though,” Dongmin mumbled, glancing over at the billboard outside of the vet's office. Jinwoo, in all his sultry goodness, stared right back at Dongmin. “Mm, no, you're the farthest thing from an idiot.”

He liked being able to talk to the fake Jinwoo while knowing full well that the _real_ Jinwoo wouldn't care. He liked knowing that the _real_ Jinwoo held feelings for him, too, and so now it was perfectly acceptable to stare at the advertisement and sigh dreamily as he imagined Jinwoo winking in his general direction.

It really wasn't far off from reality anymore. He still couldn't believe he had a hot underwear model's number in his phone, and he really couldn't believe that said hot underwear model sent him a text within that minute: _good morning dongmin!!! :)_

Dongmin stared at it with a growing smile, and he was quick to text back his own greeting: _good morning! ❤_

He didn't hit send just then, however. He wondered if the heart emoji was too much. He would ask Myungjun, except Myungjun had finished with his client and was waiting on the next one, a forlorn expression plastered on his face as he rifled through documents.

Oh, but what the hell. He had fussed at Bin for not revealing his true emotions, so he might as well _not_ make himself out to be a hypocrite.

He sent the text and waited with baited breath for Jinwoo to respond.

_you're so cute, dongmin!!! can i come over and take u out for lunch???_

Dongmin stared down at his phone, his heart pounding in excitement. He wanted, once again, to ask Myungjun if he could leave the office for an hour, but then that would entail explaining _where_ he was going. Myungjun looked as if he was in a fragile state right now.

He asked Jinwoo for advice: _myungjun looks sad. :( should I really leave him?_

Jinwoo must have been waiting for each text to come through, because all of his replies were quick. _i can bring over some lunch!! how about subs? ask myungjun what he wants i can bring him a sub too._

Dongmin decided that would be the best thing to do. Perhaps Jinwoo would be able to actually talk through the situation better than Dongmin ever could, anyway. It seemed like he got along relatively well with both Myungjun _and_ Bin, and he was probably far more experienced when it came to love and relationships.

He didn't ask Myungjun, however; he knew Myungjun's preferences by heart, and so he texted Jinwoo one last time with his sub order.

He definitely _did_ add another heart.

By the time Jinwoo mentioned he was on his way, Myungjun had already put up the _closed for lunch_ sign on his front door. He didn't appear to be going anywhere, however. He just slumped down in one of the waiting room seats, and Dongmin stared at him in concern.

“Myungjun-”

“I know, I'm pathetic!” Myungjun exclaimed. “It's just a _guy_ , I should get over him, right?”

It hadn't been exactly what Dongmin was going to say. Now it would be far more difficult to mention the subs, unless he just wanted to blurt it out.

And that was what Dongmin wanted.

“Jinwoo is bringing us lunch.”

Myungjun looked up from his hands, blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Lunch,” was how Dongmin clarified himself. “I mean, Jinwoo is, um, he's bringing us lunch.”

“Why is _Jinwoo_ bringing us lunch?”

Dongmin definitely hadn't forgotten that Bin was typically the one who would bring Myungjun's lunch, and Bin was typically the one who would eat with Myungjun in the small office. Clearly Myungjun hadn't forgotten, either.

Dongmin now had to explain that _his_ love life was actually going far better than expected while Myungjun's was still in the dumps.

“So, um, Jinwoo and I...I mean, I, um, confessed. And Jinwoo, he's... _not_ as straight as I thought he was. And he sort of confessed.” Myungjun was still staring, and Dongmin struggled even more with his words. “Like, I mean, it's not really a relationship at this point. We're still just friends. There's nothing different between us.”

“So did you confess or didn't you?” Myungjun sounded exasperated.

Dongmin blushed. “We, ah, we did.”

“Oh.” Dongmin could only imagine how Myungjun must have felt, and so he decided to say no more on the subject, _especially_ not concerning the fact that he slept in Jinwoo's bed just two nights previously. “Congratulations, Dongmin. That's...yeah, that's awesome.”

“Myungjun, you don't have to force yourself-”

“No, seriously, congratulations. I'm...I am happy for you.”

The smile he gave was, at least, a little genuine, and so Dongmin softly returned it. He knew Myungjun was stressed and lonely and in pain, but it was still sweet for his friend to offer his support, despite his own problems.

He did secretly text Jinwoo and ask to not draw any attention to _their_ newfound relationship, as ill-defined as it was. Jinwoo texted back a saluting emoji, which Dongmin could only assume meant that he would follow along with the request.

Jinwoo followed along all too well, however.

The moment he stepped into the vet practice, he made a beeline for Myungjun, delivering his sub with a fine grin. “Good afternoon, Myungjun! You look great today!”

“Oh my god,” Myungjun mumbled, snatching his sandwich.

Jinwoo wasn't perturbed, mostly due in part to Dongmin's earlier warnings, and he just laughed. “Hopefully it'll fill you up!”

He had turned away just as Myungjun mumbled, “I'd rather Bin fill me up.”

“Myungjun!” Dongmin exclaimed – seriously, why was he always the mother of his idiotic friends?

Myungjun whined before standing up from his seat. “I'm going to go eat alone,” he announced. “Because I have tons of work to do in my office by myself. It's a good thing that no one else wanted to eat lunch with me, because I'm busy today.”

Neither Dongmin nor Jinwoo tried to disprove him, and so Myungjun took the opportunity to scurry off, his eyes downcast and no trace of the usual smile plastered on his face. Dongmin stared after him sadly before sighing and turning his attention to Jinwoo.

“I'm sorry about him,” Dongmin apologized, taking his own sandwich. “But thank you for grabbing these. I was getting a little hungry.”

“Mm? Oh, no problem. It was more of an excuse, really.” Jinwoo's grin was now sheepish, and the tips of his ears were red with embarrassment. “I know we just saw each other a couple of days ago-”

“When I got drunk?” Dongmin asked.

“Well, the hangover afterwards was nice.”

Dongmin thought back to their connected hands and content expressions. He thought back to the smell of breakfast and coffee, the light conversation they had as they sat around Jinwoo's dining room table, and the sounds of the birds chirping away near the windowsills. It _had_ been nice, headache and dry mouth aside.

Dongmin giggled, albeit a little nervously, and Jinwoo continued, spurred by Dongmin's acceptance of his statement. “So it's only been a few days, but, um, I think I just really wanted to see you again. Even if it meant I had to shell out money to buy subs for this entire workforce here.”

“It's just two people. Don't be stingy.” Dongmin unwrapped his sub, smiling when he realized that Jinwoo had it prepared just as he asked for it to be.

It was a simple gesture, something that would have been replicated by any of Dongmin's friends, but it also meant Jinwoo was in that small circle of _friends_. It meant he had some form of relationship with Jinwoo, even if not romantic.

(Though he hoped it _was_ romantic.)

“You weren't the one paying, so of course you can say that,” Jinwoo complained. “Can I sit, though?”

Dongmin's desk only had one spot, and so he pulled around a chair for Jinwoo, who sat in it and looked around with a smirk.

“I never thought I'd get to go _behind_ a receptionist desk. Is this how the professional people live?”

“We live just like everybody else.”

“Probably with amazing fingers.”

Dongmin raised his eyebrows, and Jinwoo laughed. “I meant, fingers perfect for typing up documents very quickly.”

“Sure.”

“I'm not very good with typing, though. My fingers are slower, I guess.” Jinwoo took a bite out of his sandwich and chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds before adding, “But I like to take my time with it. It's more enjoyable if you make the moment last.”

“The typing moment?”

Jinwoo laughed and threw Dongmin's words right back at him: “Sure.”

Dongmin felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and he tried to hide the blush by eating his sub and clearing his throat, but he was certain Jinwoo caught it, if that satisfied expression was anything to go by.

What was this, though? It couldn't be _just_ a lunch between friends, not when Jinwoo was making those sorts of jokes and not when he kept glancing over at Dongmin. It couldn't be just a casual meal, not when they had confessed and held hands before.

Then what _was_ it?

Jinwoo seemed to have all the answers, and so Dongmin opened his mouth to ask.

Jinwoo, though, seemed to already have his own question prepped. “Do you have any plans after work?”

Dongmin had to process that, and he blinked owlishly. “I, uh, I don't. Why?”

Now it was Jinwoo's turn to look bashful, and their eyes didn't meet. “Maybe, then, if you'd like to, and you don't have to, but I can cook for you? Without you needing hangover soup this time. A normal meal you know, no excessive drinking and no Myungjun and Bin-”

“Yes.”

The response was instant, something Dongmin didn't even _need_ to think through to agree to. He nodded his head enthusiastically. “We can do that!”

Jinwoo was cute, Dongmin thought, especially when he grinned that adorable, gummy grin and finally stared up at Dongmin.

“Then...then it's a date?”

Dongmin's heart was going to explode.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CUTE JINCHA!!!
> 
> not so cute myungbin. but it's looking promising, you guys, myungjun might get his happy ending!
> 
> hmu with them dollar bills [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!


	9. millionaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinwoo stared at him, dirty plates stacked in his hand, and then whispered, “I think...I think we should go on a second date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what this chapter doesnt have? myungjun. i exercised sO MUCH RESTRAINT. this chapter is awful tho so i mean idk if this means anything but

Dongmin didn't feel at all prepared for his date.

He had pulled his best outfit from his closet, clothing that hadn't seen the light of day since his _last_ date, which must have been _months_ ago. The pants needed a bit of ironing, but otherwise, they seemed to work relatively well. He combed his hair back, too, taking more time to actually layer it with product to look more presentable. There was that expensive cologne Myungjun had gifted him a previous year, and he finally used some of it, for once. The attire was topped off with some fresh flowers he had picked up from a nearby street vendor, a sweet, old lady who offered him a discount after realizing he was heading out on a date.

By all accounts, he _should_ feel prepared. He didn't know if he could make himself look better than he already did. Not a single strand of hair was out of place, not a single scuff was found on his nice dress shoes. He _should_ feel ready.

But he didn't. He took deep breaths as he walked down the path to Jinwoo's apartment, the flowers held tightly in his hands. So many thoughts crossed through his mind, so many scenarios that could happen throughout the night, and yet all he could think of was, _how badly will I screw this up?_

It was such a dumb thing to think, yet it caused his palms to become sweaty and his steps to slow down.

What if his breath smelled bad? What if Jinwoo tried to kiss him, but stopped because of bad breath?

What if Jinwoo hated the flowers? What if he was allergic to flowers?

What if he had somehow misinterpreted _everything_ , and this was nothing but a friendly meeting?

What if he was overdressed for the situation? What if Jinwoo wore something casual and comfortable?

Dongmin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Other people shoved past him, brushing against Dongmin's coat, and he _tried_ to will himself forward, but he couldn't quite take that step.

He was going to ruin any chance he had with Jinwoo.

His mind tried to remind him that Jinwoo _admitted_ to liking him. Jinwoo _said_ he liked Dongmin. Jinwoo had been the one to call this outing a _date_.

Dongmin slapped at his cheek with his one free hand, attracting attention from people simply trying to get home for the evening.

“Come on, Lee Dongmin,” he scolded himself. “He likes you, and you like him, so there's no issue.”

He walked again – then stopped mere seconds later.

Their affection for each other was still brand new. It was a concept they had both only become familiar with during the few times they had spoken to each other. This was the most _crucial_ portion of establishing relationships. If Dongmin made one wrong move, maybe he wouldn't have any sort of appeal left. Maybe there _was_ no appeal, actually – maybe Jinwoo was just lonely.

Dongmin sighed and glanced at the flowers in his hand.

He had to do it. Even if he was rejected, even if nothing did come out of this one date, he had to at least _try_ to make this relationship work. He would regret it far more if he ran off now and stood Jinwoo up on their very first date.

He started walking again, and he didn't stop this time. He let his feet carry him to Jinwoo's door, and before his doubt could appear, he knocked three times, then stood back to wait.

It didn't take Jinwoo very long at all to answer, and Dongmin felt breathless when he did.

Jinwoo had only ever shown himself to Dongmin while wearing casual clothes. The only other thing Dongmin had as a visual was the billboard image, the advertisement for underwear. _This_ was completely different. Jinwoo really knew how to dress up, though, to make himself look formal and even _more_ handsome, if that was even possible.

“Hey.” Jinwoo spoke first, soft and hesitant as he gripped at his door. It was clear he was nervous; he _had_ mentioned that he thought his homosexuality was nothing but a phase, and Dongmin realized that this might be his very first date with a man.

It was okay, then, that he was so nervous. It wasn't Dongmin's first time, and yet _his_ heart was hammering in his own chest still. He could very much relate.

Still, when Jinwoo smiled through his anxiety, he appeared genuine and _excited_ , even, for the date, and Dongmin felt some of his fears put to rest.

“Why don't you come in?” Jinwoo asked, clearing his throat and stepping aside to allow room for Dongmin to step through the door. Instantly, he took his shoes off, setting them gently off to the corner where Jinwoo had a few of his own laid out.

His apartment looked as nice and cozy as Dongmin had remembered it, and as he cautiously walked into the living room, he wondered if Jinwoo could also recall how they held hands so easily that morning.

Was it something Jinwoo even thought of? Or had it all been a mistake Dongmin initiated in his hungover stupor?

“Where's your dog?”

He didn't know why _that_ was the first thing out of his mouth, and he tried to will his own life to end as Jinwoo blinked in confusion.

“Mocha? She's in my bedroom right now. Why?”

“No reason. It's...I was just wondering.”

There was silence. Jinwoo appeared too nervous to talk at the moment, and Dongmin realized it would probably fall on his shoulders to lessen the tense feeling in the air.

“Um,” he started, and Jinwoo glanced at him. “It, um, it smells good.”

Jinwoo bit his bottom lip before looking back over at the kitchen. “It isn't _entirely_ done just yet,” he commented. “But, uh...flowers?”

“Oh!” Dongmin had forgotten that he was even _holding_ anything. They had practically molded into his hand, what with the tight grip he had on the stems, and he swallowed thickly before thrusting them out towards Jinwoo. “They were pretty!” he explained, defending his choice to bring flowers to a first date. “And...and I thought they might fit well with your house, and also they reminded me of you because they were...beautiful.”

Was it okay to call someone beautiful on a first date? Weren't they still just testing the waters with each other? Dongmin had no idea. Surely the night must mean _something_ , as they had already basically confessed a mutual attraction for each other.

When he spared a peek at Jinwoo, though, the older boy was blushing. The tips of his ears had turned red and he gently took the flowers, fingers brushing across Dongmin's hand as he did so. It was such a brief moment, and yet as he drew back, all Dongmin could think of how _warm_ his hand was, how warm it had been on their morning spent together, and how warm it was just at that second. He could already imagine himself holding Jinwoo's hand for the rest of his life, fingers linked together, thumbs caressing whatever portion of skin they could reach from their positions-

“Dongmin, you're so sweet!” Jinwoo broke through his thoughts with his exclamation, a bright grin on his face as he examined the flowers. Those same, long fingers now brushed over the petals of the crimson flowers Dongmin had chosen, the ones he had pondered over for far too long, asking the sweet vendor, over and over again, if boys _liked_ crimson flowers.

(“A boy would like any flower if it comes from you!” the lady had proudly announced, and even though she was a saleswoman and Dongmin _knew_ the compliments were dished out to everyone, he instantly bought those flowers anyway.)

“Do you, uh, do you like them?”

“I _love_ them!” Jinwoo gave a small hum before gesturing at Dongmin, a motion for Dongmin to follow him. Dongmin barely hesitated, trailing after Jinwoo as they made their way into the kitchen. “I'm sure I have a vase somewhere,” he murmured. “My mom used to send me flowers on holidays, so I bought a few different vases to hold them. It would make her happy when she came by.”

Dongmin watched Jinwoo rifle through his cabinets. The flowers were held in an outstretched arm, keeping them from being squished up against the counter space. “Does she not send you flowers anymore?” he asked.

“Sometimes she does. Not as often anymore. I think those first few years were a little rough on her, not having me around.” He finally pulled out a simple white vase, rectangular in shape with small designs around the rim, and he filled it with water. “She doesn't have anyone else, you know. She and my dad got divorced a long time ago.”

“Oh. I'm...I'm sorry.” Dongmin wasn't sure why Jinwoo would confide in _him_ about all of this, unless it was simply a chance for them to get to know more about the other.

“Don't apologize! It happened so long ago, honestly, and we still talk to him. He's a good dad, I promise. Just a guy who fell out of love with his wife.” Jinwoo stuck the flowers in his vase and smile over at them, spreading out the stems to make it more aesthetically pleasing. “Dongmin, these flowers were _made_ for this vase! Look how pretty they are!”

The flowers were set out at the table; Dongmin's cheeks were turning pink from the praise he had been given. Okay, then, flowers were a good thing. He had to remember that for their next date (if there was to _be_ a next date).

“I'm happy you, um, you appreciate them!” Dongmin said. “I made sure that guys would like crimson flowers. I don't think I've ever bought flowers for a man.”

“How about a woman?”

“I've never been on a date with a woman before. I mean, I haven't been on too many dates with men-”

“You haven't?”

Jinwoo actually looked shocked, for some reason, and Dongmin stared at him in confusion before slowly shaking his head to confirm his statement. “Why do you look surprised?”

Jinwoo scoffed, a hand coming out to wave over at Dongmin. “Dongmin, come _on!_ I'm sure you've looked at yourself in a mirror before, haven't you? Don't act modest – you're extremely attractive.”

The sincerity of such a statement was what made Dongmin want to _believe_ him. The words themselves were meaningless; all of his friends told him he was gorgeous, frequent customers to the vet, as well, and the female cashiers of the ramen joint he visited often. It wasn't as if he was a stranger to being _told_ that he looked nice.

But none of their words had ever held the same weight as Jinwoo's. None of them had ever really, truly looked as if they meant it on a level more than playful joking or silly flirting. It was something they said, something that might have been false or something that might have held an ounce of truth. Dongmin had always accepted it with smiles and laughter, nodding his head and refusing to comment on the statements.

Maybe it was because Dongmin _liked_ Jinwoo that the words were different. Maybe it was because a model had actually complimented _his_ looks. Maybe it was because Dongmin thought that the feeling must be mutual.

Or, maybe, it was simply the way Jinwoo stared at him, his eyes wide and sparkling and his lips turning upwards into a small, genuine smile. Maybe it was the lack of flirtatious connotation, the lack of cheery fun, that made it all the more believable. Maybe it was just a quick, sudden statement, uttered without a consideration of what those words _could_ entail. It was casual. It was pleasant.

It was wonderful now to hear.

He didn't want to press Jinwoo on. He didn't want to do the typical, cliched, “did you really mean it?” He wanted to accept the praise for what it was, as gracefully and humbly as he could.

So his response instead was, “But I can't compare myself to a man like you.”

Jinwoo stared at him for a few seconds, his expression thoughtful, before he suddenly snorted. A hand came up to cover his mouth, as if embarrassed for the noise he had made, but his eyes were crescent moons, filled with such joy and happiness that Dongmin was taken back for a moment.

How could _he_ have made someone like Jinwoo so happy?

“Oh, god, sorry. It's just...you were so serious when you said it. Very proper, Dongmin. Even if it's false, I liked hearing it.”

“It's not false!”

Jinwoo removed his hand from his mouth, revealing a gummy smile. Dongmin found that his heart raced all the more when Jinwoo looked at him like _that_ , rather than the sultry image seared into his mind from the billboard near his front desk.

“Is this how we begin our first date?” Jinwoo asked, suddenly giggling. “Arguing over who looks better?”

“It's definitely you.”

“Alright, alright. I will admit defeat in our war. I'll take the title of the best looking man.”

Dongmin liked Jinwoo a lot. He liked his smile and his laughter and his absolute charm. He liked talking to him and joking with him. He wanted this first date to be nothing short of perfect; he wanted things to go exceedingly well.

It got easier, too, as the night stretched on, as the sun set and the dim lights of the streetlamps flicker on. The meal was delicious, and Jinwoo had expensive wine to accompany the dishes – so he claimed, anyway. Of course, Dongmin didn't know enough about wine to think it was anything _but_ fancy, and he admitted as much to Jinwoo.

“Oh, then this is the _fanciest_ wine that money can buy,” Jinwoo fibbed as he poured a glass for Dongmin. “It costs millions of dollars, and to actually attain it, you need to travel to the outermost regions of France.”

“Except it tastes like every other sort of wine I've ever tried.”

Jinwoo scoffed and shrugged his shoulders dramatically, a sigh spilling from his lips. “Well, that's true, because you're someone who simply chugs drinks down without thinking of the _taste_ – or of the consequences.”

Dongmin blushed and he looked down sullenly at his drink. “I don't see why we're bringing up past mistakes on our first date.”

“I don't think it was much of a mistake,” Jinwoo commented, and he set some more meat on Dongmin's near-empty plate. “Because it got me to confess to you just as much as _you_ confessed to _me_.” He raised an eyebrow, then glanced up at Dongmin. “And we held hands, didn't we?”

Dongmin was certain he would start sputtering if he could even find the strength to open his mouth. Jinwoo's words caused him to just stare, however, because _he remembered_. He actually _wanted_ to remember the hand-holding, he _wanted_ to claim it wasn't a mistake.

Dongmin was sure, by the end of the date, his affection for Jinwoo would increase tenfold.

“Before me, how many men had you dated?” Jinwoo suddenly asked.

This time, Dongmin _did_ sputter. “Wha-What? I thought – those are past mistakes, Jinwoo. We're not bringing those up.”

“All of the men were mistakes?”

“There wasn't that many!” Dongmin defended himself hurriedly. “Just...just three of them.”

“I'm curious.” Jinwoo sipped at his wine and smacked his lips in content. “But you don't have to explain anything else if you don't want to.”

Dongmin stared at him for a second, watching the way he gingerly held the wine glass in his hands, examining the sharp curves of his face, countered only by the soft look in his eyes.

“One was in high school,” Dongmin blurted out. “And one was in college, and one was before they put up your billboard.”

“My...? Oh! The- yeah, that one.” Jinwoo giggled again. Dongmin didn't know if the wine was making him warm, or if Jinwoo just had the uncanny ability to cause Dongmin's body temperature to constantly heat up whenever he so much as smiled. “I hope _that_ didn't make you break up with your boyfriend!”

“He wasn't even my boyfriend!” Dongmin exclaimed. “I went on two dates with him and decided I didn't care for him.”

“Why not?” Jinwoo asked, then held up a hand. “You don't have to explain if you don't-”

“Myungjun suggested him. A friend from university.”

The small _ooh_ Jinwoo gave, the nod of understanding, made Dongmin grin, a bit relieved that he wasn't being judged _too_ harshly, and a bit amused that even clients seemed to catch on to Myungjun's interesting personality.

“Say no more,” Jinwoo murmured, and he began to clear the empty plates out of their way. “I'm glad, though. Not that...that it didn't work out, I'm _not_ glad about that, I promise. But just...now you're here. If that makes any sense.” He winced slightly before gathering Dongmin's glass of wine. “Do you want more? Please say yes, so I can pour it and not make a fool of myself any longer.”

Dongmin grinned, and before his brain could tell him to _wait_ , to think of the consequences, to remind him that he was actually shy and not at all bold around cute models, he put a hand over Jinwoo's arm and squeezed lightly.

(He was muscular. Dongmin felt breathless.)

“I didn't think you made a fool of yourself,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I'm glad I'm not dating any weirdos that Myungjun tried to set me up with, and...and I'm glad I'm _here_ , Jinwoo. I'm glad for everything that happened to bring us here, right now, even if it's less than conventional, and even if I'm certain you actually served me cheap wine, and even if I called you _underwear model_ when we first met – god, and you wanted to go on a date with _me?_ ”

Jinwoo stared at him, dirty plates stacked in his hand, and then whispered, “And I want to go on a second date with you, too, Dongmin. I think...I think we should go on a second date.”

The shock didn't get a chance to settle in; elation took control of Dongmin's emotions, and he grinned widely before releasing Jinwoo's arm. “I'd love to.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I APOLOGIZE but i think im getting back into the hang of this. idk, i've been having so much difficulty recently. it's not a great chapter, but it's something and hopefully i'll do better with the next chapter (myungjun is coming back, this could be a reason why it might be better, im obviously biased towards writing him, i apologize to everyone else).
> 
> hmu [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)! gimme dolla bills.


	10. model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I guess I need someone to help me eat all these cookies. I also need someone to hold my hand while we watch that scary movie we decided on last night. And I need someone to give me a hug before he leaves for the evening.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final installment of mister underwear model!!!!

Dongmin supposed that his relationship with Jinwoo wasn't going to ever be the _conventional_ sort of relationship. After all, who in the world would fall in love with and begin to date an attractive underwear model? Who would stare lustfully at a near-naked man for so long and still get nervous jitters in him whenever said man wore hoodies and jeans? Who would baked cookies and show up at a photoshoot for the model, looking extremely out of place, eyes searching desperately for the man he loved?

Dongmin would.

“This is gay,” a voice said beside him with a small snort. Dongmin didn't spare him a second glance. “It's the gayest thing you've ever done, Dongmin.”

“Who even said you could come with me?” Dongmin mumbled, peering over the heads of staff members, his eyes narrowed against the bright studio lights.

“Bringing _cookies_ to an _underwear model_ while he's at work? Gay.”

“Thanks for that, Myungjun. You should just leave.”

Myungjun didn't respond, and Dongmin sighed heavily.

In his excitement to start his life with Jinwoo as his boyfriend, he had forgotten all about Myungjun and _his_ relationship issues. It wasn't until he went to work early one morning to clean a little bit and found Myungjun fast asleep on the waiting room chairs that he suddenly remembered poor Myungjun's boyfriend issue.

(“How long have you been sleeping here?” Dongmin asked, voice dripping with concern, as he smoothed Myungjun's hair down and attempted to make him a little more presentable to their clients.

Myungjun bit down harshly at his lip. He was unable to meet Dongmin's eyes. “Minhyuk lives too far,” he responded, “and...and I can't keep imposing on him. I'll be fine.”

“Has Bin not spoken to you?”

Myungjun splashed some cold water on his face from the bathroom sink, and when he looked at himself in the mirror, Dongmin could see the flash of pain that passed over his gaze. It was gone relatively quickly, though, and he straightened up. “There's nothing for him to speak about, I guess.”

Bin had to endure many angry voicemails from Dongmin for the rest of the week.)

He couldn't help but take pity on poor Myungjun. Sure, he was a grown man acting as if his entire world was falling apart around him, but given how close he was with Bin _before_ the drinking and confession incident, it was probably quite a devastating blow. A friendship ruined, and unrequited love shoved right back into Myungjun's face. It was no wonder Myungjun was miserable all of the time.

(“I told you, Myungjun can come talk to me-” Bin had argued, but Dongmin shoved an accusing finger into his chest.

“ _You_ go talk to _him_. You're the one that made it awkward – he's the one that's in love with you! Show him you care, even if it's just in a friendly manner!”

Nothing had been done, though; Bin shied away from confrontation, and Myungjun was too scared to face him.

Dongmin was exasperated.)

He hadn't _meant_ to agree to let Myungjun tag along with him on a semi-date to drop off cookies with his boyfriend. It just so happened that they both got off work at the same time, and Myungjun, used to trailing home after Dongmin already, simply followed in step. They had gotten on the bus and were halfway to the shoot before Myungjun had suddenly turned to Dongmin and said, “Why are we taking the bus to your house?”

Which, of course, reminded Dongmin that he was actually taking his annoying best friend to a not-really-a-date with his boyfriend. That wasn't normal at all, was it?

He tried to convince Myungjun to hop off the bus, pointing out other bus schedules he could use to catch a ride back to Dongmin's apartment, offering up his keys and money and a chance to be placed onto his father's will, but Myungjun refused to budge.

“It's a _date_ , Hyung!” Dongmin complained as the supposed director of the photoshoot called it quits for the day.

“Shut up. It isn't.”

“It basically is! And I can't have you third-wheeling on every single one of my dates!”

“It's just one, would you calm down? Jinwoo won't dump you because I'm tagging along. Maybe I'm just curious to see how a photoshoot works, have you ever thought of that?”

Dongmin would have loved to respond, to release a tirade of angry words that had been bouncing around in his head for the past few minutes, but he heard a familiar voice call out his name: “Dongmin?”

Jinwoo lightly jogged up to him, his expression brightening – and then wilting, when he noticed the other guest. “And...Myungjun? Is this a veterinarian meeting?”

“I'm the vet,” Myungjun grumbled, “and he's the receptionist.”

Dongmin grit his jaw down, appalled at how rude and blunt Myungjun could be sometimes, but Jinwoo just nodded knowingly. “So, you and Bin are still a no-go?”

Jinwoo knew how to shut Myungjun up better than anyone, apparently.

With Myungjun now seething silently to himself, Jinwoo took the opportunity to turn to Dongmin, the smile appearing back on his face. “Minnie!” he exclaimed, though he _did_ keep his voice down from the workers still cleaning up on set. “What are you doing here?”

“I, um...I was just curious. I mean, you've seen _me_ at work, so I thought it was only fair to see _you_ at work.”

“You've seen me on that billboard. Though,” Jinwoo glanced down at his clothes, classy and suave with his hair combed back and expensive glasses perched on his nose, “I think this is a little bit different, isn't it?”

“It's not underwear modeling,” Dongmin agreed.

Jinwoo looked back at him with a grin. “You sound disappointed,” the older man teased, and he giggled at Dongmin's indignant sputtering. “I'm still with that company, though, and they claimed they wanted me for another advert here soon, so you might get to see more of that.”

Dongmin nodded his head in agreement; and then the devil took him over and made him mutter, “I hope I get to see more of it _before_ you model.”

Jinwoo wasn't slow, not at _all_ , but he still stared at Dongmin in confusion for a few seconds before his eyes lit up with understanding. “ _Oh_ ,” he said.

The devil had made Dongmin take two steps _way_ over the line, and he quickly tried to backtrack. “I didn't mean it – I mean, I _did_ , but I know you're still uncomfortable with, um, with... _this_ , but I made you cookies, and I'll see you in underwear whenever I see you in underwear, the time and place doesn't matter – though I'd prefer at home – but whenever. Whenever, Jinwoo.”

Fortunately, his words seemed to actually loosen Jinwoo up more. He gave a small giggle and shoved Dongmin's shoulder lightly. “I'm not upset! I mean, I'm more flattered, really. I thought I looked good, but that was just my own opinion, and it's... _nice_ to hear my boyfriend tell me that...that he likes looking at me.” His eyes trailed down Dongmin's body, slowly and steadily. “And maybe,” he murmured, and his eyes went back up again, a mischievous glint shining brightly, “I'd like to see you in a very similar state.”

Dongmin flushed brilliantly, caught under Jinwoo's cat-like grin, and he would have attempted a _little_ more dirty-talk if Myungjun hadn't suddenly cleared his throat. “You know, I'm still here, and this conversation is only a little disgusting.”

Jinwoo didn't miss a beat, sticking his tongue out in Myungjun's direction and proclaiming, “You're the one that chose to third-wheel, so you knew what you were getting into.”

Once again, Myungjun didn't seem to have a come-back for that, and so he hung back and glowered in Jinwoo's direction. Jinwoo chose to ignore it. (Dongmin thought Jinwoo must be a saint.)

“You mentioned that you have cookies, though?” Jinwoo asked, searching eyes now curious.

Dongmin held up his container and opened the top. “It was my first time baking,” he admitted, “but you told me that you liked sugar cookies, so I tried to make some.” Most of them had fallen apart through the journey – and others had fallen apart the moment Dongmin had finished baking all of them. He wasn't the most _skilled_ baker in all the world, but it was definitely worth the hours he spent grueling away in his kitchen, hunched over the small recipe card his mother had sent him.

(“It's a secret recipe!” she had whispered over the phone.

Dongmin found the same recipe online. He could no longer trust his family.)

Jinwoo instantly snatched one up and bit into it. Dongmin didn't know whether they were good or not – Myungjun had been his taste-tester, but he had also been drunk and crying and so Dongmin never _did_ get an answer out of him concerning how well his cookies tasted. For all he knew, they could be missing a key ingredient.

“If it's not good, it was my first time baking, and I can definitely get better at it,” he assured.

Jinwoo shook his head, his lips turning up in another wide smile. “Nah, this is _really_ good, Dongmin! For your first time baking, you _killed_ it.” He gestured at the pack of cookies. “But I can't eat all of these myself.”

“Oh.” Maybe he made too many.

“So I think you'll have to just come over tonight.” Jinwoo sighed, acting as if it was more of a problem than it truly was. “I guess I need _someone_ to help me eat all these cookies. I also need _someone_ to hold my hand while we watch that scary movie we decided on last night. And I need _someone_ to give me a hug before he leaves for the evening.”

“Have you two not kissed yet?” Myungjun asked.

Jinwoo promptly ignored him. “I think you're the only person around here willing to do all of these with me, Minnie.”

“I'm here,” Myungjun repeated.

Dongmin was _not_ about to allow this chance to be ruined by Myungjun and his ever-present attitude problem. He lightly shoved his older friend aside and cleared his throat, standing tall and proud in front of Jinwoo. “I think I can be the man for the job,” he exclaimed, and he _certainly_ caught Jinwoo's excited grin.

Of course, there was definitely the issue, still, of Myungjun. Myungjun, standing off to the side and looking very much upset, and not just the selfish sort of upset that Dongmin had grown used to. He looked unsure and nervous all of a sudden, his hands stuffed into his pockets and his lips in a tight line. Dongmin sighed and pulled out his wallet, passing over a few bills.

“Hyung, can you get a taxi back to my place?”

“I have my bus card.”

“The bus won't come for a while later,” Dongmin pointed out. “And it'll take you longer to get home. I don't really want you out that late-”

“I'm an adult, Dongmin,” Myungjun pointed out. He took the money, regardless. “I can take the bus. Gives me time alone, anyway, before you come home. Uneless...” He gestured to Jinwoo, “unless you _aren't_ coming home?”

Jinwoo snorted, and Dongmin quickly shook his head, trying to quell the blush that was surely taking over his cheeks. “We're not... _at_ that stage yet, are we, Jinwoo?”

“Not yet.”

“Not until Jinwoo's ready. Right, Jinwoo?”

Jinwoo raised his eyebrows. “Why do I have to explain my non-existent sex life to my dog's vet?”

“Right! Right, that's invasive. Myungjun, you're being invasive.”

Myungjun just rolled his eyes. “I'll meet you at home, then, Dongmin. Here, give me a cookie so I have something to eat.” He didn't ask before reaching into the container and pulling out three of the sugar cookies Dongmin had specifically cooked for his boyfriend.

Dongmin wasn't going to say anything, though, because that would just mean he would prolong Myungjun's third-wheeling.

“Be safe, Myungjun,” Dongmin advised, and he guessed Myungjun's short little wave was an answer to that. Myungjun skirted away, dodging a few workers, and Dongmin finally didn't feel his presence breathing right by his side – it was probably the first time he had been alone in a full week, too.

Well, alone, minus Jinwoo. And he definitely didn't mind _that_ sort of alone.

He turned back to his boyfriend, noting the gummy smile that had taken over his features. “I brought my car,” Jinwoo said, “So we don't have to take the bus.”

“That's good! So does our date start the moment we get into your car?”

“Why not here?”

“Well...” Dongmin looked around as the crew finished their cleanup and the building slowly began to empty out. “I think I'd rather start our date somewhere romantic.”

“My car?”

Dongmin puffed his cheeks out, and Jinwoo laughed. “You're being difficult,” Dongmin complained. “When we get to your house, then?”

“I have to admit, Minnie, I didn't bother cleaning up too much or making it look presentable. I had no clue you were going to come over.” Jinwoo made sure he had everything before gesturing for Dongmin to follow him. They went down a different hallway than where Dongmin had come in from, down to the parking garage where Jinwoo's car sat.

“We can go to my place, then. It's almost always clean.”

“Myungjun's there.”

Dongmin sighed. “Scratch that. We'll just go to your place.”

“I figured!” Jinwoo opened the car door for Dongmin, only closing it again once the boy was seated and buckled. He took his time starting the car, having slowly put on his own seat belt and fixed his rearview mirror. He kept his eyes on Dongmin the entire time the engine started – a total of two seconds. And then he grinned widely and reached over to pat Dongmin's arm. “According to you, the date has started just right now.”

It wasn't an extravagant date, not by any stretch of the word. They got stuck in traffic on the way to Jinwoo's place, and ended up eating half the cookies as they waited for the cars to clear. Neither seemed too put out, however. Their conversation was light and mundane, filled with gentle pauses and soft touches, hands wrapped around each other and eyes bright with good cheer. Dongmin actually mourned when Jinwoo had to let go and focus solely on the road, his skin missing the warm contact, his gaze missing the warm stare.

The horror movie they had picked out actually wasn't all _that_ scary. Or, maybe, Dongmin wasn't paying much attention, because Jinwoo kept whispering things to him, and Jinwoo kept holding onto him tightly, and Jinwoo kept leaning in close, as if waiting for _something_ , during all of the quiet scenes. In any case, his eyes _did_ keep darting up to Dongmin's face – and Dongmin knew that because _he_ kept looking down at Jinwoo.

It was clear there was unresolved tension between the two boys, and as Dongmin stuck the movie back in its case and prepared himself to return home (and face Myungjun), Jinwoo pointed out as much.

“I feel like there's something we should do before you leave tonight,” he muttered.

Dongmin would play dumb. He _knew_ what Jinwoo wanted. He wasn't an idiot, and even if he sometimes felt naive in comparison to his other friends, he was well aware of social norms between couples. However, he didn't want to be too eager. He didn't want to guilt Jinwoo into kissing him. Jinwoo was, after all, still struggling to come to terms with accepting himself. He was more comfortable than Dongmin had thought he would be (“I've been with boys before – besides, you're worth every single struggle.”), but that was no reason to assume that he would be completely excited about _kissing_.

As far as Dongmin knew, Jinwoo had never been in a long-term relationship. Kissing, in Dongmin's opinion, should be full of love and romance and adoration. He didn't want to force that upon Jinwoo.

“What is it?” he asked, then, playing dumb.

Jinwoo caught on instantly. He was good with reading people, Dongmin had come to realize. “Oh, come on. Myungjun was right, Dongmin, it's a shock we haven't kissed yet.”

“I don't like hearing _Myungjun was right_ , especially when it relates back to us,” Dongmin mumbled.

Jinwoo pouted and reached over to tug at Dongmin's sleeve. “I'm fine with kisses,” he admitted. “It's been a while, but I _like_ you. No, I mean...I _really_ like you. Like, a lot. I'm _in love_ with you.”

“It's a little early to-”

“When did you fall in love with me, Dongmin?”

Dongmin decided not to mention the billboard; he didn't have to, anyway, because Jinwoo was already grinning and saying, “It was my underwear modeling, wasn't it? So I don't think _my_ confession came too early.”

“What? God, Jinwoo, that's bold, of _course_ I can't just fall in love with an image, I need personality and mutual respect-”

“If it was you up there, I'd be head over heels instantly, too.”

“Then, yeah, the underwear modeling, um, definitely started it.” Dongmin blushed as he heard Jinwoo giggle, and he quickly added on, “But I loved the _idea_ of you. And then when you showed up in my life, I realized you were even better than my _idea_. You weren't just this sultry figure on a billboard. You were... _Jinwoo!_ You were sweet and funny and just...perfect. I like you without your shirt, a-and I like you with your shirt.”

Jinwoo was quiet for a few seconds, a thoughtful expression overtaking his face. His lips were curved upward and he grabbed a hold of Dongmin's hand. “I don't know how to respond to that,” he whispered, “except by telling you that _you're_ perfect. You're the most handsome person I've seen in my entire life. I love your laugh. I love your concentration. I love your organization and your studious nature and just how damn _awkward_ you can be sometimes.”

“I'm not-”

“And I think, instead of trying to outdo each other with compliments like we've taken to doing recently, arguments like this can be settled by the old-fashioned way.”

Dongmin stared at him, blinked, then asked, “Sword fights?”

“Oh, come _on_ -”

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding!” Dongmin sighed happily and linked his other hand together with Jinwoo's. “So, a kiss?”

“Yeah. On the lips.”

“No other kind of kiss.”

“There are several, in many different spots, but I just want maybe one kiss on the lips, and then I'll allow you to go.”

It sounded like a good enough deal for Dongmin. He closed the gap between them, bending slightly in order to capture Jinwoo's lips in with his own. It was soft and chaste, and it left Dongmin yearning for more as he drew back slightly. Still, he knew better than to ask for more, so he murmured, “I should go.”

“Or you could kiss me more.”

“I don't want to impose on your hospitality.”

“Okay. That's fine. I'm sure Myungjun will enjoy hanging out with you tonight.”

“On second thought, I think I can afford to stay for a bit longer.”

Jinwoo grinned once before they connected lips again. Dongmin's arm wrapped around Jinwoo, holding him tight, and Jinwoo grasped at Dongmin's arms.

It was such a beautiful kiss with such a beautiful man, and Dongmin decided he wouldn't ever let Jinwoo go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU ASK, yes i do have an epilogue planned for myungbin. we'll get our closure, i promise!!! i love myungbin too much to leave them like this lol.
> 
> thank you everyone for sticking with me! this was my first chaptered jincha fic, and it was so much fun to write!!! i want to do more of it in the future someday, maybe small drabbles and oneshots, so be sure to keep updated with me on my tumblr [@vonseal](http://www.vonseal.tumblr.com)!!!


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